#hes like marie condo but with food

[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less. 

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

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Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

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[totally-lit-road-trips]

Chapter 22: Farm & Orchard

Welcome back to my Totally Lit Road Trip blog, where the lit stands for literary!

Today’s adventures took us all around Concord, MA, as we learned about Henry David Thoreau and Louisa May Alcott, as well their relationships with each other and other authors in the area. I think it says a lot about the authors that despite age and gender differences, they inspired each other’s writing and played a role in each other’s lives.

Jess and I started our morning at Thoreau Farm, where we were treated to a private tour, because we were the only ones there. Our tour guide, Barbara, is an amazing historian who told us the saga of the Thoreau family’s life on this farm. Even though Henry David Thoreau only lived there for eight months after he was born, the farm played a large role in his writing due to the stories his mother told him about the place. His grandmother, Mary Jones, was living in the house with her husband, and when he died, the “widow’s third” rule went into effect, meaning that even though she couldn’t own the house, she could legally continue living in 1/3 of it. Mary “swapped” homes with her daughter Cynthia (Thoreau’s mother), since she was younger and would have an easier time farming the land to make a profit. This is how Thoreau came to be born on a farm not technically owned by anyone in his family.

In 1995, when the last living owner of the house passed away, developers wanted to purchase the land and build condos. This prompted a group of historians and literature lovers to create a trust and raise the nearly $1M needed to purchase the land and restore the house. Rather than restoring it to its original form, as a lot of historical societies do with old houses, the trust wanted to refurbish in a way that would honor Thoreau’s memory and lifestyle. Given that he was a huge proponent of finding harmony in nature, the house was refurbished using recycled material and environmentally friendly paint, and uses solar panels to provide most of its electricity. 

One interesting tidbit about the house is that its original foundation was about 300 yards away from where it lies now, and no one really knows why it was moved. It certainly would have been easier to just build a new house on the place where it is now, and historians have not discovered a reason for its move.

Inside the house you can see most of the original floorboards and walls, which were repainted to match the original colors in the house, although they left a few spots un-painted for comparison. 

On our tour, Barbara told us about Thoreau and his siblings. He and his brother John both (unsuccessfully) proposed to the same woman. A few weeks later, John cut himself shaving and ultimately died of lockjaw. Thoreau was so distraught over the death of this brother that he wound up developing what we now know were psychosomatic symptoms which mirrored John’s so strongly that his family was convinced Thoreau must have cut himself as well. He eventually recovered, and went on to write A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, about a boat trip he took with John before his passing.

Thoreau’s younger sister Sophia (pronounced So-Fye-Uh) was an accomplished artist, and drew the cover art used for Walden, the book for which Thoreau is probably most well-known. Additionally, the family were abolitionists, and his older sister, Helen, founded the first woman’s abolitionist group.

Thoreau Farm is also still a fully functional farm, and volunteers from a non-profit organization called Gaining Ground farm the land and donate all the produce to local food pantries and meal programs. We took a few minutes to stroll around their crops, and it was really impressive. 

My favorite new plant discovery came in the form of Egyptian Walking Onions, which were growing in one of the small garden plots near the house. When I said I wondered how they tasted, Barbara gave us permission to pick a few, if we would try them and let her know what they tasted like. Can confirm they tasted like red onions, just in miniature form! The Egyptian Walking Onions are an heirloom plant, meaning the seeds were from Thoreau’s time period.

(The little purple buds in the phot above are actually the Egyptian Walking Onions! They’re very small, but very tasty!)

After a quick and delicious lunch at Nashoba Brook Bakery, we headed over to Orchard House, the family home of Louisa May Alcott. 

As you approach the house, the first thing that stands out is the lovely little garden out front, which is planted with the same plants and flowers that each of the four March sisters plants in her own little garden plot in Little Women. The plots are labeled accordingly with the sisters’ names - Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy. 

The first part of the tour takes place in the Concord School of Philosophy building, which Alcott’s father built in 1879. He was a Transcendentalist, who believed in education reformation. He believed in things like recess and field trips, and opposed corporal punishment, which was widely used at the time. 

In the Concord School of Philosophy, you’ll find benches that were created for the schoolhouse scenes in the 2019 Little Woman film, and donated to Orchard House after filming. You can sit on them as you view a short documentary about Orchard House, narrated by a very compelling “Louisa May Alcott”, played by Jan Turnquist. You can watch the documentary here, if you are a member of Thirteen PBS.

After viewing the documentary, it was time to tour the house. Unfortunately, photography is not allowed, so if you want to see the residence in all its glory and fine detail, you’ve got to come visit for yourself. 

We learned that the family bought Orchard House when Louisa was 25 years old. Prior to that, the family had lived in 29 houses over a span of 30 years, which sounds exhausting. After purchasing the house, which was only a few rooms, Alcott’s father had a nearby tenant house rolled in using logs, and attached it to the main house, making the whole residence much more spacious for his family. Louisa and her sisters helped with painting and setting up the house, although her sister Beth died before the family officially moved in. Beth’s melodium (a reed organ that resembles a small keyboard) and her portrait reside in one of the sitting rooms. 

Due to the success of Alcott’s writing, she was able to furnish the family home with a lot of nice things, many of which are still present in the house today. She was also able to finance her youngest sister May’s art lessons in Europe, which were necessary because in America, art was not seen as a viable career for a woman. May had a small studio room in Orchard House where she gave art lessons, and one of her students, Daniel Chester French, eventually went on to design the Lincoln Memorial.

May spent many years in Europe learning art from the masters, eventually marrying and having a daughter, whom she named after her sister Louisa. Unfortunately, May passed a way shortly after giving birth, and then Lulu was sent back to America to be raised by Louisa for about nine years. Lulu eventually moved to Switzerland, where she lived until her death in 1975 at the age of 95.

May’s artwork lives on, however, as it can be found in every room in the house. From sketches to paintings to ink drawings all over the windowsills and walls, May’s art gives visitors glimpses into the lives of the Alcotts and the art styles of the time period. Due to a current art exhibit with the Concord Library, more of May’s art was on display than usual, including a silk dress which she hand painted. In addition, the wedding dress of the eldest sister, Anna, was also on special display in Louisa’s bedroom. The silvery gray silk was certainly unlike any modern wedding dress you’d see today, but it had a very sophisticated look nonetheless.

Some other items of note in the house were Louisa’s boots and writing desk. The boots are kept in a costume trunk from when the sisters and their friends would put on plays. The very same boots are mentioned in Little Women as belonging to Jo, who wears them to play Roderigo, the same role Louisa wore the boots for in real life. Louisa’s writing desk, though small in size, was large in what it represented - her family’s faith in her writing ability. During her lifetime, it was unfitting for a woman to have her own writing desk, as writing wasn’t seen as an appropriate career for them, similar to art. Louisa’s father build the desk for her, showing how strongly he believed in her.

Something I already knew before visiting Orchard House, but that I still think is interesting and important to mention is that when Alcott was writing Little Women, she fully intended for Jo, the character modeled after herself, to remain a “spinster,” just as Alcott was. However, her publisher absolutely forbid that, so as a “compromise,” Alcott created a sort of unexpected character for Jo to marry, rather than the fan favorite pick, Laurie.

One thing I didn’t know before our tour was how involved the Concord authors were in each other’s lives. Nathanial Hawthorne lived next door to the Alcotts, and Thoreau and Emerson were contemporaries of Louisa’s father, Amos Bronson. They even joined the family for Anna’s wedding.

After our tour of Orchard House, Jess and I explored downtown Concord a bit, and visited a few antique stores, a chocolate shop, and a cheese shop. Then we went back to our hotel to unwind for a bit before heading to Copper House Tavern for dinner. We both had fancy burgers that were quite scrumptious, and very satisfying. Now we’re back at the hotel resting up for tomorrow. We’ve got a lot planned, and it looks like rain all day, but luckily most of our adventuring will take place in doors.

Tune in tomorrow for some more literary adventures in Concord!

<3 Theresa

[thealternateesas]

Date: November 2, 2024

Daily Activity: I woke up to a flurry of messages from applicants on Upwork and Facebook. I spent about an hour reviewing their applications, specifically looking for candidates with names similar to mine, Ely, or starting with "L."

Today was also a cleaning day for me! I added “fix the house” to my to-do list while I look for condo units and a new house. I reached out to Iza regarding the business idea, but she wasn’t sure about it. I also contacted Kylie about potentially opening a shop together. I’m willing to fund it, but I’d like her to be my partner, and she agreed! We plan to meet next month to discuss everything.

When Ran came home, I shared my travel plans for the month, and he was super excited about it!

I realized I need to open another bank account just for pleasure and shopping, so I’ll keep using my Metrobank account for that.

Afterward, I headed back to the mall for some shopping. Here’s what I picked up at Fully Booked:

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami - ₱899

Ueno Station - ₱999

A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki - ₱999

Red Bean Paste - ₱799

Crime and Punishment - ₱659

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami - ₱649

Scrapbooking supplies (lettering labels, stickers) - ₱588

They were all staring at me like I was crazy with my haul!

Next, I went to Uniqlo, where I bought:

2 puffer jackets (black and blue) - ₱2,599 each

Underwear worth ₱4,000

Then I headed to Chris Sports and bought another set of weights for ₱689. At the shoe center, I treated myself to:

Samba shoes - ₱8,000

New Balance shoes - ₱8,000

Reebok running shoes - ₱6,000

At SoFab, I picked up red shoes for ₱1,599 and black Mary Janes for ₱1,599. Afterward, I did some grocery shopping, which came to ₱4,000, and spent ₱328 on transportation.

Finally, I got home, arranged my new stuff, and ate some food that someone named Mani gave me. I also managed to finish my lesson plans for the upcoming classes!

Expenses:

Books at Fully Booked: ₱5,193

Scrapbooking Supplies: ₱588

Puffer Jackets: ₱5,198

Underwear: ₱4,000

Weights: ₱689

Shoes: ₱23,599

Groceries: ₱4,000

Transportation: ₱328

Total Expenses: ₱43,605.00

Incomes:

Inheritance from parents: ₱125,036,963.24

Salary from Bells Insight: ₱3,899

Metrobank balance: ₱9,500

Total Incomes: ₱125,050,362.24

Net Balance: ₱124,814,684.24 - ₱43,605.00 = ₱124,771,079.24

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1996 We each made up a new game. His game is that he reads the Spanish movies that are listed, then I get to laugh at how he says the words, then interpret them for him.

I said I had a game for him, but who knows if he wants to do it, will have time, or will remember to do it, but he said he will do it with me. The object is to make up a profile of Norah since we don’t know squat about her and see who’s right, wrong or close.

This is what I say about Norah: She’s never been married, has no kids and has bisexual tendencies. She’s probably been with a few women but for a very short time. She prefers males, but once again, she doesn’t keep them for too long, cuz she’s a snob to him or he’s lazy or has some kind of problem with her. I think she lives in England and has a nice, average-sized condo or townhouse, if not a house. She’s the kind I wouldn’t want for a friend and who wouldn’t want to know me, as she’s too serious. She’s got no tolerance or empathy for people like Nervous, Fran or Ellie and acts like the so-called grown-up and mature type. She’s never been one for making prank phone calls. She probably smokes cigarettes, drinks occasionally, but doesn’t do drugs.

This is what Tom says about Norah: She was a spoiled rich kid who went into acting cuz she didn’t have to work. She probably has had 2-3 husbands and has one or two kids. Her first husband was probably a British director who got her the parts in some earlier mini-series she did in the 80s. She got divorced from that husband cuz she wanted to come to the States to try to make it big in the movies. She’s an average mother and person but is stuck on herself. She now lives who knows where and is living off of past jobs and off her husband, since her acting career has pretty much petered out. She may or may not have made prank phone calls, depending on where she’s lived.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 1996 When I got up on the 27th, my period started, naturally. It was just spots, but today it’s a full flow. I told Tom I seem to be back to normal, therefore, my body must’ve forgotten how to make this so-called baby. He said that that’s not true and that this is working out great cuz it’s a sign that my body can adapt quicker and better by the fact that it suddenly changed back, therefore, it can now make a baby. Whatever. He’s still 100% sure I’ll have no October period and that he can commit to that, but I don’t know if we do it enough to give him the chance to prove me wrong. He did mention us doing it more, so that’s nice. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

I haven’t been writing as much cuz I’m still working on the computer journal project. I’ve got them all squashed and I’ve fixed them all the way up to 36. Then, I decided to spell check and cap them all, so after I do that, I’ll just have to cap paragraphs and other things the dictionary may have missed or any typos and that’ll be it.

The doctor’s appointment went fine. He gave me a new inhaler to replace the Azmacort, saying they don’t make Azmacort anymore and this thing, Aerobid, works just like Azmacort does. The good thing about it is that I need only take 2-4 hits twice a day. Not 6 hits twice a day. I’ve got new prescriptions for that and the Proventil inhaler for a year.

After the doctor’s, we stopped off at Mom’s house for a little bit, then got something to eat at a fast-food drive-through, then came home.

Got a postcard from Alex who went to Sacramento. What an old ugly place Sacramento is.

Mom, Mary and Dave are going to San Diego from this Monday to Friday.

Tom worked on Mary’s car today and he got in a few hours after I got up and asked me how the new inhaler was. I told him I seemed hyper and he burst out laughing saying, “That’s like saying that the ocean seems wet.” In other words, I’m always hyper anyway.

I told him it’d cum in “Laurie H” to remember to double-check if car part stores really have the car parts they claim to have and he said, “I don’t want to cum in Laurie H, I want to cum in you.”

So, we talked, he took a shower, I gave him a massage, then he ate some toast and crashed.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1996 I’m gonna go check out a movie in just a short while, but first, I’m happy to say that all my journals are squashed. All the ones up to 107, omitting any that aren’t on the computer if they’re letters or stories.

I can’t believe God didn’t give me my period yet! Well, I know he will. As busy as he is (doing unfair and wrong things), he could never forget my monthly periods. Watch. With my luck, I’ll get it as I’m out the door to see the doctor tomorrow.

Tom and I saw a really neat-looking lunar eclipse earlier. It’s supposed to be the last one of the millennium.

He also showed me a few new things to do for him on the computer to help him out. How to check the drives for errors and how to defragment the drives.

Remember how I said I put cat pictures on Kim’s ugly journal? Well, I removed those and put 158 little address label samples I got out of a catalog on it. It looks awesome.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1996 The suggestion Tom made about a week ago that my good ear may be infected, does seem possible. I’ll ask the doctor to look at it when I see him on Friday for my refills. It’s been itchy. It’s weird how the bad ear was the culprit for a while and now it’s the good ear that bothers me. This explains why I’ve had dizzy spells, but I haven’t had any for a few days now, which is nice.

I wish I would get my period now and just get that over with as my tits are quite sore and I can’t even begin to describe how bloated I am. This 104-pound woman looks 125 pounds. My body should be back to normal now. It’ll stay this way for a while too, as long as he doesn’t touch me or get off more than once every week or two. Since he’s cum, I’ve learned just what my body does. True to my lifelong gut feeling, his cum can’t make me pregnant. All it can do is make my cycles screwy. Anyway, I know I can expect a full and normal period by the weekend for sure. In fact, I even told God just now that I know this is a trivial request and I know he’s busy, but coming from me of all people, I’m sure he’d have no problem whatsoever with starting my period now and would be delighted to do so, so I’ll be over the worst of the cramps when I have to go out Friday. Yes, asking him for periods is an easy prayer that’s sure to be granted with no problems at all.

Gloria’s concert sucked. She looked OK body and hair-wise, although her hair was a bit short. However, she looked so tired, much older, and I never heard her voice so strained and off-key before in my life. I was sitting there laughing at her, but at the same time, I felt both embarrassed for her and sorry for her. Andy’s gonna borrow the tape one of these days, but trust me, my niece Lisa and I would’ve made her look sick if we had been there singing with her.

Later…

Tom had a funny dream the other night. He dreamt he was walking down a road with his mother when suddenly, she turned into Dennis Rodman in drag. He’s a well-known basketball player. So, I’ve been teasing him and running around here saying that I had a dream he and I were walking down a road and he turned into a butch.

Anyway, as funny as that is, I’ve been pretty depressed these last few days. Been doing a good job holding it in, though, as I don’t want to get Tom all bummed out or have us end up arguing. Besides, I could discuss it till I was blue in the face and it’ll still never change things. So, I cry on and off and try to avoid thinking about certain things that pop into my head. The mind, though, is a very hard thing to control at times.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1996 God, I hate you! I got up this morning and said to myself, maybe, just maybe, I can turn on a talk show while I’m waking up and it won’t be all about teen pregnancy and sickos getting pregnant for a change, just like 4 out 5 talk shows seem to be about these days. Sure enough, though, I had to hear about all kinds of teen pregnancies on one talk show. Then I go to change the channel and take a chance on another talk show and I had to hear all about a 13-year-old who got pregnant by her boyfriend’s father.

I swear, it’s like God’s rubbing in my face what I can’t have! Why must he tease, torture and taunt me like this? Now I can sort of relate to how my parents feel about my repetition. I can’t even turn on the fucking TV without hearing babies this and babies that and pregnant this and pregnant that. Almost every commercial is about being pregnant and having babies and so is almost every show. I’m sick of it! Like this makes it easier for me to have to deal with my never being able to have a kid? Enough is enough! It makes me sick! I’m almost afraid to turn the TV on these days. I’m tired of hearing about pregnant 12-year-olds on one channel, then flipping to the next to hear about the pregnant 15-year-old, then to the next to hear about the pregnant crack addict who’s broke, then to the next to hear about the pregnant Ku Klux Klan member, while I’m on the verge of getting my period any second here.

Later…

I just had to take a few minutes out there, cuz I just ended up bawling my eyes out. I picked up Piggy and went outside, as he makes me feel better. Also, I clipped his nails. I know I was at God’s mercy by crying like that. That’s just what he wants and I know he was up there laughing. I could feel such hate all around me. I tried to remind myself, hey, look. You need to deal with this. God’s never gonna change, he’s never gonna let you have any control over your life and that includes the right and choice to have a child, so just get over it. It sure is hard at times, though.

In a minute, I’m gonna jump in the shower. I suppose I should shave my legs. I guess Tom would like that better, but then again, he’s not gonna touch me, so I’ll do it tomorrow. Maybe this weekend he’ll touch me. If I behave. If I talk and act as he’d prefer. Last night he asked to be taken care of. So I played with his dick for a few minutes, then he wanted a back rub and said he was gonna go to sleep. I asked if he wanted me to finish taking care of him and he said no. Now, I know we all have our ways, quirks and feelings, but this still just seems so weird to me. I can’t imagine someone wanting to get all excited for nothing. I know that if he starts something with me, I expect him to finish it, or else I’ll be left horny and that’s no fun. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted me to get him going so he could finish off the job after I left the room. Even that seems weird to me too, cuz if I’m gonna get my own self off, I’m gonna get my own self started and not bother with anyone else being involved unless I want them involved from start to finish.

Later…

Took my shower and went through the mail. No goodies today. Just a flier for Tom and an NPN envelope for me.

The weather has really cooled down here. It’s breezy out there now and at around 10:30, it was even just a touch chilly. Around now, though, is when I wish this place would turn into Florida. Before we know it, the days will be chilly and the mornings and nights will be freezing.

It’s really cool to hear all my wind chimes going off. I’ve got so many now (7) that it’s hard to tell which one’s which.

I’ve got some good news which is gonna equal bad news, cuz it always does. Next door has been beyond too good to be true. I mean, they’ve been the best they’ve ever been. Not a sound. Not even music playing softly. It’s been this way ever since I mentioned that bad heart I’m supposed to have and that I got from my daddy, so I wish I’d thought of that piece of crock long ago.

I can’t see myself meant for heart problems and I sure as hell hope that God’s not gonna fuck with my heart now for lying about it. Especially since it’s an absolute no-no for me to do any wrong, big or small, and get away with it. It’s almost like he expects me to be perfect, while he denies me most things I want, takes just about total control over my life and God help me if I step out of line. Whereas others can get away with anything and have control over their own lives and get most of what they really want.

Anyway, since bad equals good and good equals bad, I wonder what he’s gonna do to replace their music? He’s gotta do something, so this means they’re either gonna start up again with the music or some other source of noise, or God will stick someone else’s shit on me.

The person who started the saying, “You can have anything you want in life if you work towards it,” really burns me up. This is so untrue in some cases.

Another thing that Andy said that’s supposed to be in the Bible is how God’s supposed to be a jealous God, wants to be loved and thought well of by as many people as possible. Well, if this is true, it can’t apply to me. If he wants it to apply to me, he’s gonna have to not only make some serious changes with me but with the world itself. If he stops this world’s unfairness and sickness and cruelty and allows more stable 30-year-olds to have kids, then yes, I’ll look at him in a much, much more positive light and I may even love him. I mean, come on. There have been wonderful and shocking things that really have happened to me that I never thought could or would happen and I’ve been made to eat my words, so why not a kid, too? What’s the big deal? What a stupid question, though. I know damn good and well what the big deal is.

If I can’t control my life, I wish I could at least have control over my own damn mind then. Then I wouldn’t want the things I want, since 99% of the things I want are impossible and 75% of them would take forever to achieve.

Well, since I don’t care to turn on the TV to hear all about babies and the wrong kinds of people getting pregnant, I think I’ll go work on squashing and fixing up journals on the computer. I’ve got up to 55 squashed and up to 23 fixed, so that’ll be what I’ll go continue working on now.

Later…

I’ve had enough writing for now, so I’ll just quickly say that we went to the library and Gloria’s concert on HBO sucked, but I’ll expand later.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 1996 Got some cat and dog stickers from the ASPCA today. So, since this journal and the next are heavily decorated in the inner covers, I went and decorated the 5 Lisa Frank books. I also stuck a dog and a cat each on envelopes that’ll go to Kim and Larry. I didn’t for Bob, cuz I think they might think there’s drugs or something hidden within or under the sticker, so I didn’t take the chance.

I also designed that boring journal cover of Kim’s she sent. If someone gives me a journal, fine. But if I don’t like it, I can always design the cover myself and that’s just what I did. I used some of the cat drawing pictures that Kim sent that were in one of the calendars. I’ve got 2 on the front cover and 2 on the back. I laid them down and then wrapped them up with clear contact paper.

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but the trip took about 4 hours. That excludes the time we stopped for breakfast on the way up. I didn’t know this, but the California border is only about 2½ to 3 hours away. I always had thought it was about 6. It’s 6 to Los Angeles and any kind of city, I guess.

Andy decided that yes, the print of my journals, which was very small to avoid having to take up thousands of pages, is way too small for him to read and it strains his bad eyes and gives him headaches.

Well, good. He’s gonna bring the book back. I should never have made the stupid mistake of giving him the book in the first place, but you live and learn. I told him, though, that I still wouldn’t be surprised if I died before he does, so then he can borrow the originals.

Tom brought up an interesting point the other day. Through talking to him, I was able to realize that I’ve gotten at least 3 pre-thought-of dreams. Coming here, going to California and his cumming. As far as I’m concerned, though, I’ll still never be pregnant. It’s always been that the things I want the most never do come true and I’ve wanted a kid more than these 3 things. Besides, I still think that goes along with God’s unfairness rule. It doesn’t matter to him what kinds of people live here, go to California and have mutual sex. Especially since the majority of the population seems to have no trouble with mutual sex. It’s not as unfair for an asshole to go to a particular place or have mutual sex as it is for God to allow them a child.

As I’ve been proofreading my journals, on the computer, I realized all the more such weird and scary patterns about my life. Well, I’ve established long ago that I just can’t get away with shit. Anything I’ve ever done wrong, I was almost always caught in some way shape or form. Meanwhile, people can commit murder and never get caught by anyone. Probably not even suspected.

Also, as I’ve said before, I’ve figured out long ago that the more you do wrong, the more God seems to respect you and love you and the more he gives you, though this doesn’t seem to apply to me. If I killed someone, he would not bless, respect, protect and reward me. For some reason, God seems to really be against me misbehaving. Not only does he seem to be against me and hate me when I’m good, he always has punished me when I’ve done wrong. He punished me by having so many people wake me up in different places I lived after the few years I woke up so many people by prank calling them. Now, if I was most anyone else, he’d never wake me up and get me back for waking up others. I know he wouldn’t. He never even punished Andy the way he’s punished me. Yes, he’s punishing us both, as always, and the patterns of our lives are quite scary. He’s so much like me that I think it scares us, as much as it helps us to talk about it and share each other’s dreams that we’ll never have. Here’s another good person, asking for a human and normal thing (and I don’t think asking for love is too much to ask for), yet God’s basically always told him to fuck off. Meanwhile, the child molesters and murderers have no problem finding love and so much more.

But then there’s Gloria. What is with her? How does God see her and why? As far as I know, she’s never been a bad person. I know no one’s perfect, but she does seem to be quite a classy person. I can’t see her ever committing crimes or beating her kids or into drugs and other negative shit, so why has he broken his general rule with her and let her have it all? I guess God just has a few select people that he considers special and superior to others. Gloria may have worked hard to maintain all she has, but she never had to work for it in the first place. It just came to her on a silver platter. Meanwhile, I’ve fought for things in the past and the present only to never get them or to have to wait years for them, all the while fighting tooth and nail for these things.

I really think God hates Jews and women. I used to think he didn’t hate gays, cuz if he hated any such thing or person, why not just eliminate the thing or person? Now I don’t know, though, cuz he hates me and hasn’t eliminated me or gays and the reason why I’m wondering lately if he hates gays, is cuz of how he allows them to be treated by society.

I saw a movie last night that really made me sick. And madder than hell. This was a true story of two lesbian lovers, both seemingly decent and fit to be parents. Well, one had a kid and the girl’s own mother took her to court to fight for custody of the kid cuz of her lover. How fucking sick! Then they say it’d harm the kid? How? How can two people that love each other harm a kid? These women weren’t doing anything explicit in front of the kid. Meanwhile, the straights can do all the explicit things they want in front of their kids and abuse them in all kinds of ways and kill people, yet still keep their kids. How can any court be so sick as to make a woman choose between love and her kid? How can any court be so sick as to have homosexuality be a class A felony? You mean loving someone for who they are and not what they are and what body parts they have is actually worse than prank phone calls? Well, obviously it is to them, cuz prank phone calls are misdemeanors everywhere. Sick, sick, sick!!! Quality should matter when it comes to parents, not gender or how many of them.

And speaking of this world’s motherfuckers who have it all, like fame, money, power, love, kids, and good health, well, I can’t believe (but then again, I can) our own fucking president lied his way into being elected. He promised to fight for gay rights upon election, but what did the little fuck just do? He banned the right for gays to marry. That fucking cock-sucking SOB.

What is it with you God, huh? Why do you want this world to be so sick, cruel and unfair? What are you trying to accomplish? What?!

I just wish I knew why God was so full of hate. Is God really the devil? Is there really no God, but just a devil?

Anyway, since my periods are like a faithful best friend who will never ever go away till I hit menopause, I’ve got quite the PMS case here. About 3 different times I weighed as high as 106 and I’ve got PMS in every sense of the word. I have every single symptom of PMS that PMS has to offer, so I’m a million percent sure I’ll be getting my period by the weekend. I know that tit soreness is part of pregnancy as the body adjusts to the new higher hormone levels, but even if God were fair and would allow me to get pregnant, you aren’t supposed to have pre-cramps and that’s exactly what I’m getting on and off. I’m the most fearful of Tom not cumming again for two years or so, more so than I ever have been since he first did in July. It’s just a strong feeling I get, but all I can do is hope I’m wrong and wait and see what he does.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1996 Right now I’m not in the greatest mood. I still have been having dizzy spells here and there. Tom says not to worry about it and it’ll go away.

Tom’s also got me pissed off right now. It’s just over the usual - sex. After he came home, he got naked, sat down in front of the TV, then I asked him if he needed anything and he said he needed to screw. So, I got up, turned off the TV, and was gonna get him going while he was still sitting there, but then he said it wasn’t very nice of me to turn off the TV like that.

Then why’d he say he wanted to screw? I’m just tired, once again, of these sex games. I’m sick of having sex in waves and of having a part-time sexual relationship. We either have sex or we don’t from now on.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1996 We’re back home now, of course, so now I can begin writing all about our wonderful vacation.

First, though, yes I’m definitely gonna get my period in about a week. I have PMS in every sense of the word. I figured I would, though, and as I told Tom, in October I’m not gonna dog him about having a period then as he said I could cuz that wouldn’t be fair. The proper person to “dog” would be God, but that’d be useless. He’d just be up there laughing at me and that’s exactly what he would want.

Now, about the trip. The drive to and from there was long, tiring and boring, but the scenery was beautiful with lots of huge mountains. I didn’t know there was such a thing as the high desert and the low desert. Up in the high desert, there are lots of Yucca trees and Joshua trees. In the low desert, there are lots of Prickly Pears and Saguaros. I think the low desert is prettier. There were lots of dangerous roads that wound in and out, up and down the mountains and we even had our headlights on, as most cars did, to make seeing an oncoming car easier. There were some skinny wooden white crosses here and there that represent where people have died. We never saw any rabbits, foxes or snakes out in the remote areas where there were no towns, but we saw buzzards. Those are birds that are bigger than pigeons and they’re scavengers. They eat dead animals. Most of the trip was just an empty desert with distant mountains. We only passed through 3 tiny towns which were Wickenburg, Kingman and Bullhead City, which I call Bullshit City. On the way up we stopped for breakfast in Kingman, but we didn’t stop anywhere on the way back.

We traveled to Needles, California through the Arizona side of the Colorado River, which I saw. That river is sparkling clean compared to the Connecticut River.

I was so emotional and so excited as we entered CA. Another childhood dream come true. That was so sweet of Tom to get me there and said it was my temporary fix till we went further into CA to places like Sea World and Disneyland. Needles is right over the CA border in the middle of CA. Maybe just a bit lower than mid-CA. Needles is part of San Bernardino County near Barstow. It looked just like the desert regions of AZ and NV. As well as NM, TX and UT. There’s the desert side of CA and the ocean side of CA, separated by a huge mountain, but of course, that’s way further into the state. I didn’t see a sign that said we were entering CA, cuz we kind of entered by a back door, but it was so cool to see the interstate signs that said California. We pulled up by a Taco Bell and got a soda. Meanwhile, I was out at the base of a small mountain right off of the parking lot, jumping for joy. Then we stopped a little further out in CA in another nowhere land area where there was nothing but flat desert with lots of huge mountains off in the distance. Tom and I took one picture of each of us and one of both of us. Out of all the times, I wrote about going to California throughout my journals as one big fantasy, it’s cool to finally see it written as the truth. I remembered as I stood in CA, looking all around me, how I used to twirl around on my swing set when I was little and wonder when I was facing CA. Then, I’d twirl around real fast, knowing I had to have faced it several times.

As we were getting in the car to head for Laughlin, I took a white-gray rock and here at home, I took my purple paint pen and wrote “California 9/19/1996.”

After driving about 30-40 miles in CA, which took an hour, we traveled the Nevada side of the river into Laughlin. I like Laughlin much better than Vegas. The lights at night are much nicer in Vegas, but Laughlin was more of an older and mellow crowd and it wasn’t so mobbed. Parts of the afternoons were sort of mobbed, but not like with Vegas. That place is almost always rocking. Laughlin’s smaller, too.

We stood on the 24th floor of the Riverside Resort which has 26 floors. It had a beautiful view of the area. We were sort of dipped down in a valley with mountains of nowhere land all around us. Laughlin is just a little lone town out in the middle of nowhere. The big mountain tops were almost level with my head as I stood to peer out of the hotel window, cuz that’s how big they are, even though we were in a valley and on the 24th floor. It was a nicer-looking hotel room than the Ex-Caliber in Vegas, but shit were those beds hard! They were agonizingly hard and I had to take the bedspreads from both beds and lay those down under me.

After we checked in, we went and gambled for a bit, then to a restaurant. This was the other negative part of the trip, besides the long drive and hard beds and that was that these two little girls were being so obnoxious. They were screaming and running around the restaurant like crazy. The parents just wouldn’t discipline them at all. These kids were lucky they weren’t around a good 20 years or so ago when more parents tended to discipline their kids. I was dead tired and it really made me glad we didn’t have a kid then as it really would be a burden to gamble and have fun and get some sleep with one around. We certainly wouldn’t be able to have sex, either, cuz what would we do? Tell it to wait in the bathroom till we were done? Daycare would cost a fortune. We’d have to gamble one at a time, too, while the other one watched the kid up in the room. Coming home and wanting to just relax with space, peace, and quiet would be just a dream.

So, after we ate prime rib, we gambled some more, both together and separately. I kept winning and losing the whole time and Tom told me that if I see something I like at the gift shop or wherever, to get it while I have the money. So, since I stretched the $60 I had to begin with, I ended up being able to get $55 worth of wind chimes. I got 4 gorgeous ones which I’ll describe later.

For the most part, I played quarter machines. I got carded 3 times and the change people looked at me strangely when I asked for quarters with the way I say the word with my Eastern accent.

Here we go again with Wendy calling and bugging Tom with computer questions, but he’s at his mom’s right now, so there’s nothing he can do for her at the moment. What’s the story with this woman, though? Is she still heavy on him, or what?

Anyway, I basically played quarters and would win 200 quarters, and several 10s, 20s, 50s 100s and a 150 here and there, but of course I’d lose it. It was so much fun and I really love gambling and even have a favorite slot machine now which was at the Gold River Hotel. We were there on the 2nd day. There’s a machine there that has your typical 3 wheels that roll around with bars and 7s and cherries, but it also has a wheel up top. If you roll and get the money bag symbol, you get to spin the wheel and you can get from 25-500 quarters.

I like the Gold River’s change-holding cups best, too with its cactus design. The Riverside Resort just had a map on their cup, but I liked it cuz it covered where we had gone.

I bought a really pretty magnet with different shiny colors on it of a desert scene with different cactuses that says “Nevada.” And I also got one that has cards, dice and change on it that says ‘Laughlin’ and it also has my name. Even though I hate my name, I got it cuz I thought it was weird that I’d find something with my name on it, which isn’t too common, and I like the design.

Here’s a description of the wind chimes. One’s only a few inches long with one small and one larger purple crystal rock with gold chimes. The sun reflects through it nicely. One’s longer with bold colors, streaked with silver on its chimes and it has horses. The next longer one has beautiful floral chimes streaked with silver. The longest one, which is about 2’, has one rainbow-colored chime in the center which is streaked with silver, and then it’s got 5 round rings with round balloons hanging inside the outer ring. They’re really gorgeous.

By around 6 PM, I was getting very tired, but couldn’t sleep for a while till I made the bed comfier. So I listened to some CDs, and sent postcards and short letters with the hotel’s stationery to a few people. I contemplated on and off sending my folks a card. I asked Tom if he thought I should and he said yes, so cards and brief notes went to Kim, Bob, Larry, Tammy and my folks, but I still won’t write regularly to my folks or call them. I’ll let them call me and I certainly don’t want to see them, cuz I still mean it when I say that the 30 years of BS are over. Not only do I think that they weren’t very good parents, I don’t think they’re very good people. They’re certainly not my type, anyway. I’m sure Tammy will be pleased to hear that I sent them a card and not pressure me about contacting them for a while since Ma tells her every single thing I do or say to them.

We ended up falling asleep and waking up at the same time and that was from 9 PM - 5 AM. Before I went to bed, Tom went down on me, then we screwed when we got up. He didn’t get off, cuz his legs were still sore from working on the roof. At least it can’t leak in here and there’s only a little tiny bit left of roof work to do.

When we got up, we gambled a bit, then ate at that same restaurant. It was nice and quiet in there and it was right by the river, so we had a nice view from where we sat. Then we gambled for a while, then went to the post office which was below the casino. They had casinos down there too, though. After sending my mail out, we walked out by the river and saw some boats and some folks were on jet skis. We saw some ducks and even a pigeon walking by. Then we went to the Gold River to gamble, then back to check out of the Riverside, then back to the Gold River again till we lost our money and left.

Later…

I finally got Kim’s package. I really only liked two of the shirts. The ones saying ‘Arizona’ and ‘New Mexico,’ but Tom likes more of them and he’ll probably wear them. The calendars were nothing special. There were only a few pictures I liked that I’ve decorated my journals with. I thought they were live pictures, not drawings/paintings. The journal was rather dull, but I’ll make my own cover.

I left Andy a message when I got up this morning real early to let him know I needed to unwind from the trip, would be busy, but that I’d call him Monday. Sure enough, he called right back, so we chatted for a while. I told him about the trip and he told me got it off with Quinn, but still has to play his selfish games if he wants to know Quinn.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 1996 Right now Tom’s gone to the ATM to pull some money. We will be leaving soon. We’re going to CA today, not tomorrow. We’ll still be at Laughlin, too. Today! Today I’m going to CA! I’ve been waiting 30 years for this.

Later…

We are now on our way and we’re pretty psyched. Going to CA is no big deal for Tom as he’s not from NE and once lived in Riverside, CA.

We’re moving again, so my handwriting will be horrible. We’re just about out of the city limits. I’ve got my old boom box playing now. Tom stuck a cord on it so it could be plugged into the cigarette lighter.

Later…

We’re out in nowhere land now where it’s just vast expanses of open desert. Lots of cactuses and Joshua trees. We’re in between the tiny towns of Wickenburg and Kingman. We’re gonna stop at Kingman for a bite to eat. We brought the camera and camcorder and I did a little filming along the way and shot a few pictures.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1996 Guess where we’re going? To Laughlin, Nevada, and to California! I’m so psyched! We’ll be leaving around 4 AM tomorrow, then driving to Laughlin. We should arrive there at 11 AM or so. At some point, he’ll take me just over the CA border which is mostly just a remote desert. I didn’t know the CA border was just a few minutes away from Laughlin. We’ll be staying overnight, then we’ll be driving back around 11 AM at check-out time.

Later…

I called Tammy and let her know where we’re going. She’s sick, as usual.

We’re definitely well due for this vacation. We have not had a vacation since getting married in Vegas. We won’t have much money for gambling and we can’t do anything in CA, but it’ll still be lots of fun. Hopefully, we can be on the top floor of whatever hotel we’ll be in. You know how the NHA made me as far as people above me goes. Tom says it’ll be dead, though, and so many rooms will be vacant.

He’s finishing up the roof now. I told him Monday sounded too good to be true as far as finishing the roof goes.

I just wish I were the size I was when we got married. Most of my clothes are too tight on me now and Tom says it’s part of the change. Still? I thought my body had returned to normal till the next shot, but he says my hormones are still out of whack and my body will be different trying to get pregnant, during pregnancy and then returning to the period mode. Anyway, I know my thin days are over, whether he’s right or wrong on this baby thing.

I left a message on Andy’s machine about the little trip we’re gonna take.

The more I think about it, the more I’m pissed off at myself for letting Andy read my journals. How fucking embarrassing and what a way to strip myself of privacy when it comes to journaling. He’s never gonna let me live down certain stupid things I’ve written.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 1996 I certainly haven’t been writing much lately, have I? I’ve been busy with that computer journal project.

The work on the roof is coming along well and we hope to hell it’ll be done by tomorrow. Tom planned on the roof being done yesterday, but I told him I had a vibe telling me there’d be a setback, and sure enough, he did run into a problem. Guess I’m still right on some things I foresee.

I’m not at all surprised Ma included “psychic powers” on her little do-not-discuss list. I should’ve known that’d scare her and that she’s not at all open-minded about shit like that.

Anyway, I didn’t wake up at all today during the time he was working on the roof and I barely remember being woken up once yesterday. The day before, I woke up a few times but quickly fell back asleep.

See? There’s a big difference when you’re woken up by something at home and when you expect it and know how long it’ll last.

I still don’t dig the idea of being woken up for months due to a screaming baby and that’s something that goes on and on and you can’t quickly go back to sleep. You have to get up with it for a half-hour to an hour constantly. Well, I need not worry, but if I ever do, I’ve still got a long time yet.

Tom and I figure that the cycle began when I had those two full-period days. Therefore, I can expect a period in two weeks. I have a very, very weird feeling that I won’t see a period for a while, but since I know better, I am constantly telling myself, "You’re gonna get your period, you’re gonna get your period, you’re gonna get your period…"

This way I won’t get caught up in dreams and lose touch with reality. Reading back on my journals is a sad reminder of how I can’t have any pre-thought-of dreams and I wouldn’t even get my hopes up if I missed a few periods. Not with the way things are too good to be true. Not with the way I’ve made a fool out of myself in the past by getting all hopeful and positive.

Tom still says I won’t weigh what I weigh now on my birthday. Even if I conceived around October 1st, that’s only about two months. Then again, I probably would weigh around 108 from water.

Oh, Mystery, stop dreaming, will you?!

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1996 Tom just got up. We can't have sex till Tuesday cuz he's gonna be working on the roof till Monday. It's OK, I told him. I understand it needs to be done and is our top priority. So far, the work he's doing on the roof looks great and is going great.

Still no package from Kim. She must've gotten tied up and wasn't able to mail it out when she said she was going to. Of course, there's always a fear of it being misdelivered.

I've got about 9 journals decapped, spell-checked, capped, and proofread, but there's been a problem with something taking up so much memory, that I can no longer save my work as I go along. Tom's still trying to figure this one out, but hey, there's always a problem with I do some type of project on the computer.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1996 I haven’t written as much due to my being rather busy. Right now I’m sprawled out on the bed cuz my ass is sore from sitting at the computer. You’d think, though, my ass wouldn’t be sore, as I’ve got enough fat to cushion it. Now I’m usually weighing 104. Something really got all fouled up during my last wacky period, since nothing else has changed with me. Not necessarily anything wrong, but obviously I have a severe case of water retention now. I expect my period in a day or two, so maybe then my water weight will subside.

This is weird, yet wonderful. Well, I haven’t heard next door at all. I mean, not at all. Not even soft bass thumping as they come and go and yes, the Jeep is there. I’ve seen it parked there. Well, Tom’s on vacation this week, so hopefully they’ll stay quiet and not bug us.

I went to Andy’s last night and I finished the cat.

He’s got the printed version of journals 1-20. How fucking embarrassing!

I never did get Kim’s package yet.

Tom perfected the de-capping system and here are the 4 steps I go through with the journals. First, I de-cap it and turn it into all small letters. Then I check the spelling, then I cap it (words like I’ll, I’m, I, and letters after periods). Then I proofread it and cap any names or song titles the spell check may not pick up and correct any typos.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 1996 Gloria's gonna be on HBO in a couple of weeks. On the 21st, I think. I'll have to check it out and see how she's looking these days. At least I'll get a dynamic performance from her with lots of great songs.

Starting next Wednesday, the season premiere of Law & Order begins. I had given up on the show for a while, but the last one was so good, that I may check it out again for a while.

Gosh, I really really wish we'd gotten the de-cap thing all squared away. Tonight would've been a great night to play with it and I'm in the mood to do so. Well, it'll all be squared away when I'm either not in the mood for it or am busy with something else.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1996 I realized something and that is that this is the longest stretch of time I’ve gone without feeling like I’m gonna panic just cuz I can’t have a kid. Also, it’s still such a good feeling to have us both cumming.

I never heard next door blast in, but there was a light on over there when I last looked over there. I guess Mike never came home. I hope they broke up. Better yet, I hope he’s in jail and will stay there for a very long time.

In back of this book is a listing of all the local radio stations and what they’re all about. Tom got it for me out of his mom’s paper.

Last night I did 3 drawings. A shitty one of a woman, an OK one of a cat, and a fairly good one of Norah. I redecorated the walls in here and made room in another spot in the music room for wall art. I’d like to possibly do a Queen Ann palm tree. We also still want to paint over some of my shittier and older wall art so I can redo stuff there.

We’ve got the EC on now since it’s cooled down tremendously. It’s so humid in here, though. Even this book’s pages are rippled due to the moisture in the air, but they’ll straighten out when it’s gone.

Can’t wait to get Kim’s package. Hope it comes tomorrow.

The symptoms are back again. I’m not moody, but I’m peeing frequently and my tits are definitely bigger. I’m 3 or 4 inches bigger all around than I should be. Meaning, I didn’t just recently get bigger, but I do need to lose 3 or 4 inches all over and firm up. I don’t know why my tits have grown. Maybe it’s water or just cuz I’m older, but I hope they don’t get any bigger. Already my clothes don’t fit right. That’s why I always liked small ones. Clothes fit better and you can get away with no bra which is a pain in the ass and you don’t have to worry about bouncing all over. I’m still hanging in at 102 and I assume the reason I feel all bloated and all that is cuz I’ve got PMS. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, Tom’s working on writing a macro so I can de-cap documents that are all capped.

Later…

OK, why I’m now 103 and sometimes even 104 is really a mystery to me that’s pissing me off. I can’t be pregnant, so why? I should’ve dropped a pound or two seeing how I peed 5 times in the last hour.

Anyway, I talked to Andy earlier. He has no energy to see me tonight, but maybe tomorrow night.

Tom says he wants the new roof on and done by Monday. He’s gonna have to be working on it during the weekend whether I’m asleep or not. So God, please compensate me with something nice seeing how I’ll no doubt be dog tired.

I hope his racket won’t encourage next door to raise hell, but they may just do so anyway. I hate to think of how rowdy they’ll be on New Year’s Eve since they really lived it up on Labor Day. I doubt they’ll be here then. I think there’ll be new people there every year or two and they seem like the type to be there closer to a year, rather than two years.

After we get the de-capping system up to par, I’m gonna de-cap all the journals I typed with all caps. Then I’ll cap it and I’ll cap it like it normally does when I type with all small letters. All I’ll have to cap manually are names, places and first letters in the first words that begin each paragraph. Then I’ll choose different fonts for each journal, then I may very well go through and proofread them since there are a million typos and I may reprint them, too.

Well, I think I’ll go type Minnie a letter. After that, I may watch TV or something, but I’ll figure out something to do.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 1996 Here they come. I saw the kids using their monkey bars. With the weather cooling down, I’m sure that’ll be a regular sight. And they can see over into other yards too, so, so much for privacy as well as peace.

I still can’t get past level 12 on Jezzball, so Tom’s trying to beat that now. I told him he won’t beat that.

Later…

My typed version of the journal excerpts came out weird. I guess the capping system reversed itself cuz the first word of every second sentence in every paragraph is small. So he’ll get a letter with all caps, except for that. I wish I could de-cap stuff I typed with all caps. Anyway, I realized my excerpts of the edits were a bit too long. Meaning each subject is too long. So I went and shortened a new version for practice just like I had cut down my edit tapes.

Tom didn’t beat level 13 and I still can’t either. It’s really weird cuz 98% of the things I practice, I improve on, but I’m stuck in a rut with this game.

Earlier I felt like I had period cramps, but who knows what I really felt? I have no bleeding, but I took an ibuprofen to ease it, anyway. My guess is that I’ll get a period (normal or not?). In about 4 days. I just can’t seem to get my weight below 100 and I haven’t eaten much, either. I’m usually a steady 102 and I’m usually feeling quite bloated. I feel as if my tits have grown a bit and he noticed, too, when I asked him.

Tom and I had a fun night. We chatted and fooled around and he’s all psyched up due to having success with a computer project.

It’s beautiful outside now, even though it’s thundering and lightning a little and raining, too.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1996 OK, time to catch up. We didn’t go to the Grand Canyon the other day cuz my schedule just couldn’t match up, but we’ll go one of these days.

Meanwhile, we had a fun and productive weekend. We screwed and yes, he got off.

We went swimming and to see his mom. He went over there by himself on Sunday to mow her lawn and take her to and from church.

He also worked on getting the frame ready for the sound block that’s to go in the living room window.

I talked with Andy and he played me a message he got from a certain person we used to know. When we worked together at Denny’s in Chicopee, there was a cook there named Jayke. She was a great cook and a nice person, but a bit delusional as she’d claim to be able to contact some spirit of a dead rock singer and other witchy things. She reminds me of Al Loomer. She was one of those who appeared both with it and not with it. Few people are like that. They either seem with it or they don’t. She was what I describe as a stable-acting fuck-up. Anyway, Jayke said she hasn’t talked to Andy in so long, has been thinking of him and would like to talk to him.

Every now and then Kim sends a package of goodies to me of stuff she doesn’t want, but that she doesn’t want to just ditch, either. She says she’s sending a few sleep shirts she doesn’t want and a journal and a couple of expired cat calendars. She says the journal’s blue with silver Victorian geometrical designs. If it’s what I’m thinking of, it’s gonna be a rather dull-looking journal and Kim has dull taste for the most part. If so, though, I’ll make and design my own cover as I did with the one Andy gave me that he found in the dumpster.

She says the cat calendars have really cool pictures in them. One’s pocket size and the other’s a bigger hardcover book.

Later…

Tom just called from work to tell me he’ll be working a little late, so don’t worry. He’ll be home in 1½ hours.

I still have no desire at this time to contact my parents. Our letters to each other were obviously a waste of time and we’ll never see eye to eye with each other. Neither of us is comfortable with each other and we’re just too different to ever get along and right now, I just want to associate with Larry whenever, associate with Tammy as little as possible and not associate with any other family member.

A couple of days ago I got a letter from Kim and she enclosed a Bob letter that said how worried he was over me. Remember? I was supposed to be missing. He should’ve gotten my letter last Friday as if nothing at all went wrong and Kim and I both will carry on with our plans. We know nothing about it. I’m also doing something a little different for Bob that he least expects. See, he knows and expects lines like the rooms being on fire and all that, so it’s nothing new to him if I wrote mumbo jumbo. However, I thought of a neat way to be weird and make him wonder, yet still make sense. What I’m doing is I’m taking excerpts from different journals on the computer and putting them into one file and editing a letter for him that way. This way I’ll be making sense, but he’ll wonder who the hell I’m talking about and when the hell I’m talking about and where the hell I’m talking about.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1996 There’s still no sign of baby Measles, but Measles has shown up here and there.

All’s OK with next door this weekend. So far. And I repeat, so far. Last night, though, someone came blaring in to see them at 9:30, then left two minutes later, probably to buy drugs.

Tom says he thinks a teenager lives there and sees her leave for the school bus every morning.

I pulled my master oldie tapes and redubbed them since I’ve gotten so many on CDs. I shrunk them from 3 tapes to 2 tapes. I had to use Tom’s tape deck, though, cuz as God would have it, my tapes don’t record too well. They’re much softer and a bit distorted, but that beats having everything too soft due to a wimpy system. Also, it’s good that I’m not as into recording/editing as I used to be.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1996 Last night was a disaster as far as sex was concerned. I have a couple of theories as to why what happened, happened. It’s either one of them or both, I guess. We just couldn’t get him inside me. He claimed I moved too much, so that was why he couldn’t get in there. The first time I moved too much, but I was pretty sure I stood still the second time around to let him do the lining up. Both times, though, after I got him hard by hand, it seemed he deflated as soon as he tried to get in there. I thought maybe he was worried about me or got scared at the possible close call we might have had, but he claimed he was fine. During all this, I could’ve sworn I felt a presence in the room, but who knows what it was? All I can say is that it didn’t agree with what we were doing. It didn’t agree with us having fun and it certainly didn’t agree with us making a kid, either. Well, I’m still sure a kid will never be made by us, but Tom was telling me beforehand not to nag him and let him be him sexually cuz he has no control over what happens in bed. He also told me that the reason why I feel cursed and like things go in cycles is cuz I decide too much in my mind. He says saying something will or won’t be, won’t prevent good results, but it can lead to bad results or no results. I don’t agree with that one. Not when there’s been plenty of times I said I would and that I wouldn’t be a singer and I still ended up not being a singer.

The other possibility as to what happened was that he decided to tease me for saying I was worried once again about our sex life going back to its old ways and he deliberately made sure he couldn’t get inside me so I’d feel frustrated, embarrassed, and not good enough as a little payback. Maybe he’s gonna make sure, if he can, that things don’t go my way or our way if I say they won’t or probably won’t, just to get me to stop bitching or worrying out loud so he doesn’t have to deal with it. Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps he’s got more control over the situation than he’ll ever admit and he won’t get off more often till and if I talk more positively or not at all.

Well, I still say, welcome back to the good old times. Meaning, I won’t be the least bit surprised if we have to wait another couple of years for him to get off again. Then maybe I’ll have another 3-week period, then just as my body’s able to “hook” he won’t cum again for another couple of years. All I can say is that I hope to hell I’m wrong and that all works out OK and that we have a kid and that he continues to cum regularly enough. I want to have the control over him that he has over me and make him get off regularly cuz I’m good enough to do so. Still, I can’t help but think that this is just a dream. Just like with the singing, just like with the woman, just like with other things I’ve really wanted. While I’m blessed with enough things to be thankful for, I asked myself, has God ever given me something that I’ve really, really wanted bad? No. I always wanted to move out here, but not as bad as I wanted to sing, to have a woman, to have a kid, to quit smoking, to get on a steady schedule. There really is a definite pattern. If God blesses me with anything wonderful, it’s stuff I never thought about. I wanted to move out here, but not as much or as often as I wanted the other things. I never thought about marrying a guy, computers, drawing and lots of other things I didn’t really set out to do that are still nice gifts/blessings. I’m blessed with being in a house and out of poverty, but I never thought of having this due to a guy I was married to. I’m blessed with no longer having to play bus or beg for rides, but again, I never thought it’d be in the way that it is. I’ve no regrets about the way that it is and it was a wonderful surprise, but once again, I ask the same question I’ve been asking all my life: Am I ever gonna get something I dream of and think of and want really, really bad? Since I do believe that God compensates and gives if he takes, this could be a good sign. I haven’t seen Measles today and I haven’t seen Baby Measles for days, so maybe, just maybe, this is a sign that I shall be given something. But will it be something I really want bad? Something I’ve dreamt of and thought of for a long time? Or will it just be a new bird that I consider a favorite? Or is it cuz I got the stereo of my dreams that he took these birds? Believe it or not and regardless of my fears of going back in time sexually and who knows how else, I still do have a good feeling for this next year. A feeling of a major change, too, and babies do bring that. Still, I’m afraid to dream and to hope, but the different feelings I feel are what I feel (both good and bad) and there’s no changing or denying them.

Later…

I just took a quick dip in the pool and that thing sure is cooling down. Right on time, though. It cools down right about now every year.

There’s still no sign of either Measles out there, but we’ll see. It is a weird coincidence that 2 out of my 3 favorite birds have disappeared. Who knows if they’re dead, sick of me, or if God did take them and is about to give me something else in exchange? I just want him to stop picking at me and keeping me in a rut and holding me back. I want him to be fair and show that he can love us enough to bless us with the gift of a child as he’d do with any murderer. Perhaps people would think that’s selfish as I’m sure there are plenty of people out there with pasts worse than mine and with little or no blessings or skills, but this is just how I honestly feel. I don’t think a child is asking for much. I think that’s a perfectly normal and human request, compared to asking God to dump millions of 100-dollar bills on our lawn.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1996 Yesterday I got 3 new CDs from the record club. The Village People, Paul McCartney, and Alice Cooper.

As far as next door goes, they may give us another wave of peace that’ll hopefully be longer.

When I was cleaning the bathroom yesterday, I heard bass thumping. It wasn’t loud, but it was a little obnoxious. So, as I went to peek out the door, he saw me and said, “Yeah, I’m pulling out.”

So then I told him, excluding holidays, I appreciate how he’s been keeping it down overall and would like him to keep it that way, stressing the “keep” part. Like, don’t you fucking get it yet, freeloader?

Minnie called last night. She had the second kid she didn’t want or deserve.

Later…

I got a hold of Tammy and told her that I don’t go by hearsay and asked her to her face if she told Mom that I told her of my past sexual problems with Tom and she said no. She said they mainly discussed things in general, but that the only things they discussed relative to that was whether or not I could conceive due to my past and the DES. Due to my past? What supposedly happened in my past besides the DES that could have sterilized me? Is she talking about the years of medications? I didn’t ask, but oh well. I still think that DES or not, it’s God. Right now, for example, I’m kind of bored and I could be putting this time and energy into caring for a child, but God said no. God said I must remain purposeless with no destiny.

Tammy says that whatever I choose to do about Mom and Dad won’t affect us as sisters, but I don’t know. I feel like she’s pressuring me to do what they want and fuck what I want and like she’s never gonna get off my case if I don’t have more to do with them than just send cards for special occasions. She goes on and on with how they supported me for years and I never denied that, but look at all the shit I’ve gotten in the midst of all that supposed support. Just cuz they’ve done things for me doesn’t give them the right to try to control me into being what they want me to be. I mean, my mother gave birth to me, but that doesn’t make a lot of the things she did to me OK.

I tried to tell Tammy that all I wanted to know is if she told Mom what I told her or not, not for her to keep this 3-way bullshit going and gang up on me with Mom and Dad and on and on. It’s my loss, she says, but I see it as my gain if I have little or no contact with them, cuz I’m sick of the bullshit. I don’t want to get involved any longer with the types of people that expect me to kiss their asses.

What if I did make it as a singer tomorrow? It’s kind of sad to know that my own mother wouldn’t want to know about it and that she wouldn’t give a shit. If I had a baby, she wouldn’t want to know about it. What kind of a mother says that to her child? What kind of mother doesn’t say to their kid, “I know it’s not your fault or anyone’s fault, but I’m sorry you’re sterile.” Instead, she acts like she couldn’t care less and tells me not to mention it. There’s no support or anything. She could never come out and tell me that if I needed to talk, bitch, or cry about it, to call her and that she’ll be there for me as a listening ear and support me.

Tom said that when the kid he still thinks we’re gonna have is born, why not send a birth announcement, cuz then the ball’s in her court?

I don’t think so. If they can’t give a damn about me, I can’t give a damn about them or putting anything in their court. I don’t want to associate with those who are only proud of me when I’m saying and dressing and being what they want me to be. Tammy said it’s not like they’re telling me I can’t ever sing or that I should cut my hair off, etc. That’s true, but I still can’t ever feel comfortable associating with those who want me to be what they want and who lie and act like they couldn’t care less about any problems or anything that matters to me. They’d sympathize with me if I had an accident and had to have surgery, but they sure as hell don’t give a fuck about sterilization, cuz they don’t think I should have a kid.

Tom doesn’t think I should smoke, but he still accepts me for who and what I am. He isn’t just there for me if it’s something he agrees with. He doesn’t try to change me or tell me not to talk about something he doesn’t care about or can’t relate to. Tom says you can’t compare spouses to daughters and parents, but still, if you really love someone as a friend or a family member, you let them be themselves. You let them know you care and are there for them if there’s a problem with sterility or anything else. You let them talk about what makes them happy as much as they want or need to. You don’t just take the parts of them you like. Everyone has what others see as their ups and downs and when you love someone as a friend, spouse or daughter, you take the whole package deal. Not just the parts you like and or agree with.

Tammy still thinks that just cuz they’re my parents, who weren’t perfect, who did a lot of things wrong yet still love me, I should just give them what they want. Oh, either way, they’ll get what they want cuz I’m not discussing something with someone who doesn’t give a shit. Who would want to discuss something that someone said they didn’t want to hear? If there was a whole new problem going on with us that was similar to sterility, I wouldn’t discuss it with them, regardless of whether I thought they’d agree, care, or understand cuz there’s no trust there. Absolutely no trust. I wrote the letters I did for her and Dad, not for her to discuss with Tammy. If mom or dad really needed to talk about it and felt they couldn’t talk to me, they should’ve talked to each other. They’ve betrayed me and I could never trust them with anything personal.

Later…

I just had the weather channel on and there’s a big hurricane that’s gonna really slam the hell out of Georgia and the Carolinas. It looks like it’s gonna miss Florida. This one’s almost like Hurricane Hugo was in ‘89 and I see lots of death and destruction, unfortunately. This one’s Hurricane Fran.

I’m still not sure if I like the idea of Andy reading my journals. Not just cuz of any embarrassment I’d feel, but due to the fact that I won’t feel like my writing is private and something I do for me and for me only. Oh well, we’ll just wait and see what happens with that.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1996 Yup, next door had a party yesterday. It wasn’t the worst party, but it’s not something I enjoyed either. There wasn’t any ball-playing, but they barbecued, and for about 3 hours I had to sit and listen to their music. Tom considered it a reasonable volume and I considered it almost a reasonable volume. He’s probably right when he says I’d have slept through the whole thing and their company too, but I know this is when they’re gonna lose it. I figured they would sooner or later, but I’ll bet they’re gonna use Tom’s hammering as the perfect excuse to blast off at least twice a day. Tom says it was only cuz it was a holiday, but I doubt this. He also says that if they wanted to do it out of spite, they’d have never turned it down the time they did and that it’s just a matter of if they remember to turn it down. Yeah, kids do tend to have a very short-term memory. He says it’s still 50/50 as to what’s gonna happen with them in a week or two or a month. Well, I know the answer to that, but Tom says he’ll take care of whatever he has to. Good, cuz if he doesn’t, I will, but I do know I can trust him to do so.

He did something weird this morning that he’s never done that I know of before (the dude next door). He left at around 8:30 and I could hear some bass, but it was reasonable and when he came back I never heard him. The only way I knew he was back was cuz I went to stick my mail out. I’d assume that he’s gonna leave again for work any time now, so we’ll see. For the most part, though, it’s been like the garage door or a big airplane. I hear them when I’m up, but they don’t wake me up. That’s also how it usually is with Tom’s snoring.

I just hope to hell they don’t get any louder and that for the most part, I don’t know when they’re home or not, but I know that’s wishful thinking. God’s not gonna let me go so long in peace. It’s time now. It’s time for God to sic the noise on me and who knows how many times it’ll be so loud that I get woken up?

A part of me wishes they’d move. I don’t want them to cuz they’re not home most of the time and I do want them to cuz of the bass. Hell, I’d take kids and dogs over that bass, cuz the fan can drown them out and they can’t wake me up. Well, I’m sure they will move soon enough. Especially if they’re renting. Also, there’s something about that house that keeps it turning over. This is family number 3 to be there since we got here, so I’m sure we’ve got at least 5 more to go through before we’re out of here.

I’m sure most of us have lots of questions about the future we’d like answered for our peace of mind. Or to prevent or deal with a future bad thing in a better way, but if there are only two things I could ask right now it’d be to know the date of the day we do move and when I’ll get pregnant if I ever do. Will we really move before the turn of the century? Will we really have a kid in 1997? Of course, I could go on and on from there. Will I ever quit smoking? Will I have the baby by C-section if I do have one? Will I ever get on a schedule and if we have a kid, will I ever sleep a full 8 hours again and how often will I be able to do so? Will I really be a good mom and be able to handle it? Will a child strain our marriage?

God, we better be compensated with something good to come! Like I said, we’ve paid our dues. If I’m not gonna be able to sleep and if I’m gonna have to listen to noise, can’t it be my own child’s? I’m tired of having to not sleep for others. I’m tired of listening to other people’s noise.

I ended up being up 21 hours yesterday and didn’t fall asleep till around 8:30, cuz the freeloaders had me so damn nervous. I envy Andy since he has no driveway right outside his bedroom window. He has other noise to deal with, though. He said he hears a baby across the street crying, there are barking dogs there too, and street noise, since he lives on the corner of a main drag.

What am I gonna do? Tom says I have nothing to worry about, but I know better. You think God’s gonna allow them to keep the music down and that they’re not gonna say, what the fuck? I don’t think so. Besides, even if God and them did keep their music down, there’d be something else.

If God has any fairness at all in him, he’d let us have a kid. We’ve been through enough and we deserve it. The problem is that God doesn’t give to those who try and to those who earn and deserve things. It’s just the opposite. If he does reward or compensate deserving people, it’s usually with something nice, but not necessarily something they really, really want. I wish Nervous or Tom’s dad could go to God and say, “Give them a break! Have things be stable and peaceful around their house and keep them financially OK and just let them have the kid they want and deserve,” but again, it doesn’t work that way. I haven’t prayed to God in ages, either, cuz I know that’d make things worse. I’m only saying this out of past experience, too.

Later…

As far as I know, the guy next door is still there - nope - wait a minute - yeah! Thank you, thank you, thank you, God! The guy next door just left very, very very quietly!

Tom says he thinks she doesn’t work, but I think she’s got to or else I’d think I’d hear her or her kid or music coming from the house. Also, Mike did say, when we met, that they needed a babysitter. I doubt she could hear my music if she was there, cuz Tom and I tested the other one up full blast and even though it was softer, he was sure they couldn’t hear it. So, even if this one’s louder, it won’t be louder than theirs, it’s not outdoors and I’m gonna go test it right now, anyway, no matter what.

Later…

I love it! The new stereo is great. I can hear my softest stuff really well. I hope no one was over there to hear it, but if they were, tough shit.

I’m trying to decide whether or not to do any cleaning since he’s still got work to do around here. I guess I will. There’s no use in letting it build up.

Later…

I’ve got a good update on next door (hopefully), but first I want to copy in the letter I received from my parents and this time, I’ll correct their spelling and punctuation.

Dear Jodi,

All is well with Dad and I. We are coming to the end of our hot summer and looking forward to a busy season at the store. We are also on guard during the hurricane season. We stock up on extra water, candles, batteries, etc. Heidi at 16, Max at 11 and Chicken at 5 are all doing well.

We received a very nice note from Tom’s mom. It’s nice that you help her.

We enjoyed the visit with Tammy, Bill and the girls. They are growing into lovely young ladies. They all swim like fish.

Just got through watching the weather report over Phoenix. Guess you had a lot of hail, lightning and rain. Through the summer we get afternoon storms that sometimes can get quite severe.

Hope Tom is happy with his work.

Now it’s time to answer your letter and clarify my feelings. This will be the only time I will do this. There will be no further discussion either by mail or phone.

I will no longer read by mail or listen by phone to the following from you: weight, hair, singing, your past, babies, sex, the difference between you and Tammy, dancing full or part-time, revenge, psychic powers, able to beat up anyone.

As your mother these are my terms. Remember I said no further discussion, this letter is final. Now the rest is up to you. There are hundreds of subjects to write or talk about. Should you care to phone on a monthly basis, do so with Tom, we would enjoy speaking to him too. Remember - I do love you Mom

Then Dad wrote:

Dear Jodi,

Mom’s letter speaks for me too. It’s time to grow up and live the future. Let’s enjoy what’s ahead, not what’s behind.

Love, Dad

Sex? Sex?! What is she - delusional? I never have and never would discuss sex with my parents. Certainly not as an adult. There’s no way in hell I’d feel comfortable doing that. The only people I’ve ever discussed it with are Andy, Kim and Tammy.

I think I know what happened. That fucking sister of mine, who’s got a mouth as big as Mom and Dad’s, told them of our past sex life and she included sex for Tammy. I’ll ask Tammy about it tomorrow, but who knows if she’d admit to discussing it with them if she did. If she says she did, I’m gonna tell her flat out she betrayed me, the trust is gone and so am I. I’m so sick of these lying, exaggerating, controlling, selfish, jealous parents and sister of mine! I swear I’m getting closer and closer to just up and walking away. I’m not gonna associate with someone on their terms and their terms only. Tom suggested that since I can’t be myself or talk about my interests or what’s going on in my life, why not have a relationship on a courtesy level and just send cards for birthdays, anniversaries, etc. I don’t know about that. I’ve had all I can and will take of these people.

When she mentions the “able to beat someone up part,” she’s probably talking about the time I mentioned that in Marty’s letter, but I don’t know. I just don’t know.

If I’ve ever mentioned the “difference between Tammy and I,” it was only a couple of times in reference to my desire to be treated equally to her and Larry.

I don’t know why the dancing’s a big deal, either, cuz it never was “in the past,” but I’m surprised she left out the birds, pig, and the drawing on her little Do Not Discuss list. It’s my guess that she forgot to include the drawing.

I’ve just had it with these be-what-I-want-you-to-be people. I’m sick of all these conditions. And dad tells me it’s time to “grow up?” What have I said that’s so immature? Is it immature to sing, to want a child?

Parents are supposed to be sympathetic to any sterile child of theirs, but we all know how much she hates kids, anyway. Parents are supposed to listen to, enjoy something that makes their kid happy and encourage it. Not demand they shut up about it just cuz they may not like it, not care about it or cuz they’re jealous.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1996 It sure seems like the summer went by fast. Another month or so and we’ll be able to see just how chaotic it’ll get next door. They’ve still been quiet, so I think they’re gonna move soon.

I have lots to tell and it’s basically good stuff. As I knew I would, I did end up getting a full period. Tom still says, though, that my body had to go through “the change” and that my body can hook a baby now. He says that I’ll “get hooked” this month and that I should have no period in October. He said he’s so sure of it that if I have a period in October, I can let him have it and rub in his face just what I think of God and how Robin’s a liar. I don’t know, though. He’s only cum twice since he began cumming in early July with a few small orgasms too, and we don’t get to have sex that much. So, who knows if we’ll even be able to have sex enough or if he’ll cum enough. I still worry at times, that he’ll go back to not cumming at all.

He says he really does believe that a child is a gift from God and that we’ll get our gift, but I still can’t imagine God ever blessing us with such a gift. Like I’ve said before, if he can bless murderers with such a gift, why should he give people like us such a gift? I asked him if he thought God would write off my existence if I asked him to and he said no cuz it’s his job to take care of the world. Well, then why isn’t he doing so? Why are there so many natural disasters and crimes? And so much unfairness? How can he say he’s taking care of the world by allowing 12-year-olds to get pregnant? Teen pregnancies, fires, hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, wars, rapes, murders - that’s taking care of the world?

I wish I could speed up time and have it be next month or the month after that to see what’ll be going on. Or at least take a peek a couple of months up the road, but I can’t. All I can do is wait. Sometimes it’s like two voices are at a tug of war with each other in my mind. One says, “Maybe there’s hope. Maybe he’ll keep cumming and maybe this two-week weird and very different ordeal is a sign of a good change to come.” The other voice says, “Don’t do it. Don’t be a sucker and a stupid silly fool again. You know you won’t have a kid and that things will be the same year after year. Don’t hope and don’t dare to dream.”

Anyway, I think we’ve well paid our dues and do deserve a child. We’re now financially caught up and with his dad dying and with my life being the same and so empty and hopeless feeling for so long, we should get a kid as compensation, but I know God doesn’t work that way. Yes, he compensates us and I’m a firm believer in compensation due to personal experience, but he doesn’t compensate me with what I consider to be the ultimate dream which I’ve dreamt beforehand. Tom is first best, but his case doesn’t count, cuz he’s not something I dreamt of having. He happened, he’s first best, and I’d never want to live without him.

My second-best dreams were to quit smoking and get on a schedule, but when I say the ultimate dreams I’ve had, I’m talking about the singing career, the woman and the kid. I’ve no regrets about him taking the singing career since I don’t care for the lifestyle that goes with that. Also, I’ve no regrets about him taking the woman. I may find women attractive here and there, but I’m attracted to Tom more than enough and he’s got the qualities as a person that I’ve always wanted when it comes to relationships. God did give me my dream of Arizona, but if he took two, he should give two. He took the singing and the woman, so if I’ve got Arizona, can’t I have the kid too, which makes two? It seems like that should be fair enough with God cuz for every 10 things I’ve wanted, big or small, I’m lucky if I got one of them and I think it’s usually 4 or 5 things out of 10 for most people that they get. Then there are some people like Gloria who get it all.

I didn’t get caught up on my sleep till tonight. Tom’s snoring woke me up last night and I haven’t done anything like send the kind of letter I did to Marty, so I hope that my losing sleep for a while there and the 2-week long period really is compensation for a good thing to come.

I may have already got what God considers a just compensation, though, last night. I got up at 12:30 and Tom was up. I had cramps, took an Ibuprofen and he said he had a present for me that might make me feel better. Oh, it did all right! Tom traded in that other JVC stereo for a Samsung that is so much more powerful and so much nicer! Oh, it’s so nice to be able to hear old albums of Linda’s from 1967 really well without having to turn it all the way up. The other one was a stupid mistake on my part as it was just so wimpy. I’d have Linda’s old CDs cranked to the max, sit right by the speakers and still not hear it too well. I also didn’t like how the CD was so slow and how you had 3 separate drawers to put the CDs in where you’d have to check each drawer to remember and see what was in each one. This one’s a carousel so I can see all 3 CDs at once. The CD scanner is faster, and it’s got a lighted control panel so I can see the CD track number and the timing of the song. If the first 20 seconds of a song is boring, I can skip over it by hitting the scan button and releasing it as it hits the number 20. If I needed to tape CDs for someone, I could see how long each song was so I could fit it on the tape better without running out of room.

It’s got dual-cassette and they don’t scan by allowing me to hit play and fast forward at the same time or play and rewind at the same time, but it’s got optional high-speed dubbing. I would’ve loved to have had that when I was really into taping. It’s good to have, though.

It also has a clock, a timer, pre-set radio stations, Program, Intro scan, and a remote. We didn’t get the remote, though, cuz Tom got the model, which was missing the remote, but that’s OK. I can’t see myself using a remote since I always sit right by it and I can always use the program thing to program out the songs I don’t like. That’s what I used to do before when I’d be in there writing. That way I didn’t have to keep jumping up to skip over shitty songs.

I’m just so glad to have a stereo with functions I like and with power and volume. Now I can not only play all the CDs that were problematic on the old box, but I can hear all the older and softer stuff just fine.

Tammy and I were teasing each other about who’s got the better stereo and it was nice to have her sounding like my sister again and not my mother, I told her. I also told her I was glad Mom and Dad opted not to call cuz I just don’t want to get caught up in any 3-way shit and deal with the “she said, he said, you said” bullshit.

Last night there was a big storm and luckily it held off till right after I woke up and didn’t knock the power out, but I’m gonna go outside and check things out. My birds should be up now, too.

Later…

Everything looks stable outside and I just fed the birds.

Tom said to wake him up at 8:00 if he isn’t up by then.

Yesterday morning, as tired as we both were, we took Mom’s car for a test drive, since it had been having problems. It didn’t seem like we went just over 80 miles so fast, but we did. We were gone almost two hours, but it felt like we were gone for only an hour cuz once you get out of the city, you can speed up to 75 MPH.

We went out to the open and remote areas of the desert which is supposed to be what most of Arizona is like. We went to a place called New River and Black Canyon City. There were only a few tiny towns along the way, but they weren’t even a mile long. You could drive past them in two minutes. There was a prison out there too, for the worst of offenders, so they could be far enough away from civilization. It was so beautiful with lots of Saguaro and Prickly Pear cactuses.

Bob should’ve gotten Kim’s letter all worried about me and my disappearance and tomorrow, there’ll be mail service again, and I’ll send him a letter as if nothing ever happened and see what he has to say. He’s either been having a shortage of stamps or just not up to writing as I don’t hear from him too often. That’s OK with me, though, as his letters are boring.

Yesterday Tom mowed and did a small grocery run.

I weighed 104 yesterday, so I’m on a little diet. I’m 102 now and I’d like to get down to about 95.

Today he and David are gonna go pick up the wood for the new patio roof and who knows what else we’ll do? Hopefully, we’ll have sex. Right now, though, I’m gonna go get the laundry started.

Later…

Tom’s up now eating his breakfast.

I wonder if next door will have to work today or if they’ll be having a Labor Day party. I just hope to hell that they continue to be quiet and that if God wants me woken up here and there, it’s not due to anything outside of this household.

It’s slightly cool out there now, but it’ll get hot in a matter of hours.

I found a nice little goody in the outside storage closet. A big piece of an old pool cover and since we have no lounges, it’s nice to lay on and cuz it’s plastic, bird duties, and grass wash off it easily and the grass doesn’t go through it and stick me, and neither does the duties.

[pureshoney]

"oh, c'mon, baby … i was only playing around with you," he puts up a little fight as the redhead pushes his face away. "you know that i think you're the most beautiful girl in the world, chucky doesn't have anything on you," he reaches over just to press one more kiss to her temple before moving back into his own space. "well, i like my girls a little crazy, so i don't think you're too far off in that aspect …" trails off thoughtfully, a silly smile tugging at the ends of his lips. he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it when they had that little spat the other day after she caught him in bed with another girl and started fighting with him. it's part of why he even proposed the idea of going to the date to that diner she liked so much, because abel could never settle down with a woman who just took his shit. ainsley had a spark to her that made him keep coming back to her despite the revolving door of women in his life. now, it didn't only have to do with her looks, though. he enjoyed spending time with her, even doing things as stupid as dates, something he couldn't remember doing before their first one last week. now they were here, on their second one. "i don't know, don't they say your sins are always forgiven if you ask for it? like hail marys and shit … might as well do whatever i want and then, right before i die, ask for forgiveness and get myself a sweet little condo right in heaven. i'll find a way to bring you along with me, might take more work for you, though …" gives her hand a playful squeeze. who was he kidding? abel had a lovely room reserved for him, right next to satan and judas. "yeah, promised my brother i'd always be there for her." his brother was one of the few people abel was unwilling to betray, so his niece would always be a priority over everything else in the world. he'd make sure she was never left wanting anything except happy meals at three am. "we'll see how i'm feeling later; might just wanna watch you get yourself off again. that was really fuckin' hot," deciding to ignore how uncomfortable that was for him. still, the view of her dipping those slender fingers deep inside of her sopping wet pussy overpowered the feeling of his cock rubbing against the material of his pants. "could use a couple toys this time too, fuck yourself while you moan all about how you wish it was me instead," grins toward his girl as he begins to genuinely consider the idea. abel watches femme intently as she seductively removes the food from his fork, causing him to roll his eyes upward before he chuckles. "such a little fuckin' tease," sucks his teeth as he drops his hand to cut another piece, but this time he brings it toward his own mouth. "told you … and we haven't even got to the entrees."

"you are a fucking idiot", hues roll as the redhead laughs, playfully pushing his face away from her skin. "comparing me to a tiny little psycho? can you hear that? it's the sound of my pussy drying up." childishly the femme sticks her tongue out at him, wiggling it for effect before giggling. if she didn't know abel she might have been offended, but how could she when her man constantly spoke about how much he loved how she looked? how sexy she was while naked? there was no way he found chucky that hot, if he did the man had serious mental issues. "c'mon, i don't think heaven lets us kind of people in abel. unless they have a kinky depraved part that's invite only?" as far as sinning went ainsley was pretty sure she'd end up in a low level of hell, the type where you do a little manual labour every day but at least have a place to sleep at night — or perhaps she was just kidding herself. "oh see you saying that makes me want to meet her even more. you should know by now that you have to let a girl have her way", a smug smile graces her lips, memories of how her man would give in eventually if ainsley begged and pleaded enough for him to do so. "i'm glad she has an uncle like you though, someone to show her how to be treated by a man or boy." it was important and maybe ainsley was a huge hypocrite given how abel had slept with numerous other women alongside her, but for a young girl she'd never really had that. her parents were in love, sure. but it wasn't the type of all consuming adoration that ainsley had ached for growing up. his niece deserved that though, having abel show her what to expect and how keeping her standards sky high was nothing to be ashamed of. "but i'm already horny so technically that box is ticked right? you can just skip to the touching, i'm completely okay with that." flashing the male a bright smile the tip of her fingers drum lightly against the top of his tattooed hand. when the food arrives her eyes widen, both at the incredible smell and how tasty it looks ; abel had been right when he said there would be no tiny portions. "wow this looks amazing." definitely out of her price range, but this was a treat. something special for both her and him. her hand reluctantly slides from his as she reaches for her cloth napkin, thick fabric strewn across her lap as he takes the first forkful of food — only to offer it to her. this time her smile is sugary sweet as she leans over, hand ensuring her hair doesn't get in the way as her lips closes around the prongs of the fork, slowly using her tongue to push the tasty food into her mouth. did she make it more sensual than it needed to be? absolutely. "holy shit . . . that's fantastic? what the fuck?" now she could understand why abel had chosen this place.

[shop-korea]

‘A - BUSINESS - PROPOSAL’ - KISS ASIAN - LOTS - OF - NUDITY -

ANIMATION - CREEPY - BUT - NOT - AVAILABLE - AT - VIKI.COM -

ASIAN-MART - I - THOUGHT - JUST - A - CASHIER - WORKER -

I - THINK - HE - AND - HIS - BRO - OWNS - THIS - STORE - SO -

COOL - ALWAYS WEARING - PINK - ANTHONY - 6′3 FT - HE’s -

TALL - AND - LIKE - MANY - KOREANS - THEY - SAVE - LOTS -

OF - MONEY - QUITE - RICH - HIS - STUPID - PERM ON - HIS -

HEAD - DOESN’T - LOOK - GREAT - BUT - WHAT - CAN YOU -

DO - REPORTED - THE - OLD - EYE - GLASS - NO ONE - SO -

I CONCLUDE - HE’s - GAY - LIKE - MARY BRICKELL VILLAGE -

MARRIED - MEN MARRIED - 2 - MEN - HE - DIDN’T CHARGE -

ME - 4 - BAR - ($0.50) - SHE - DOESN’T - LOOK - LIKE - SHE -

HAS - MONEY - I - WEAR - DESIGNER - CLOTHES - STUPID -

ROSS - DRESS 4 LESS - BURLINGTON - REAL - DESIGNER -

HE - LET - ME - USE - MICROWAVE - OPENED - BAG - FOR -

KOREAN - PORK - DUMPLINGS - THOUGHT MY COUNTRY -

EATS - WITH - HANDS - WHILE - IN - MIAMI - CONTINUE - 2 -

EAT - WITH - THEIR - HANDS - REFUSED - 2 - GIVE - ME -

NOODLES - HUGE - EMPTY CONTAINER - CHOPSTICKS -

BECAUSE - THAT’s - $0.50 - GAVE - ME - INSTEAD - A -

SMALL - PLASTIC - CONTAINER - 4 - SAUCE - FOR MY -

$9.99 - PORK - DUMPLINGS - SO - VERY - GOOD - SO -

I - DROPPED - GLASS - MAGGI - $5.99 - DIDNT KNOW -

BREAKABLE - MY - 1ST - ALMOST - SCRATCHED - MY -

SKIN - BARE - HANDS - REMOVED - LOTS - OF GLASS -

USED - GARDEN - HOSE - 2 - REMOVE - SOY - SAUCE -

CAN’T - HANDLE - THAT - SCENT - LIKE - AMERICANS -

AND - CHOCOLATES - ASIANS - AND - SOY SAUCE -

TOLD - HIM - ABOUT - IT - WATERED - MY - HANDS -

AFTER - WIPED - ON - ME - THEN - USED - MY YES -

PHILIPPINE - HANDS -  2 - EAT - PORK DUMPLINGS -

FR - BAG - 2 - SMALL - SAUCE - CONTAINER - SO - I -

RECALLED - MANY - PINAYS - VERY - HUNGRY -

WHEN - THEY - ATE - CHINESE - FOOD - HOW -

WE - ARE - MISTREATED - USA & WORLD - AS -

EST - 67,000 YEARS - A - MEDICAL - RACE -

CARMA - WHAT - COMES - AROUND WELL -

I - SAID - ‘ANTHONY - WHERE - IS - YOUR -

CLEOPATRA’ - SO - I - ASKED - 4 A - JOB -

PART - TIME - FULL - WHAT - HE - NEEDS -

EVENING MORNING - 9A - 9P - SUNDAYS -

10A - 9P - SUGGESTED - HE - ADD - YES -

ONLINE - STORE - 4 - HIS - ASIAN - MART -

$1 BILLION - A - MONTH - HE - CAN HAVE -

THAT - POST OFFICE - KNIGHT - CENTER -

TURN - R - USE - DRY ICE - 4 - HIS - YES -

FROZEN - SEE - WHAT - MAKES - MORE -

TABOOLA - IMAGE - ADS - CLICK - PER -

PAY - 4 - ADVERTISEMENT - 4 - NOT - MANY -

ENTER - HIS - STORE - SO - LOOKS - GOOD -

SAID - EMAIL - ME - 2 - REACH - ME - AND -

NO - RESPONSE - TODAY - SO - MAYBE A -

JOB - HE - SAID - ‘YES’ - YESTERDAY - HE -

IS - ASKING - HIS - BROTHER - THEY - RECEIVE -

AT - GMAIL - 7 PEOPLE - PER - DAY - APPLYING -

LOTS - OF - APPLICANTS - SO - BROUGHT - MY -

RESUME - ADDED - ARCHERY - CHAMPIONSHIPS -

2 - KENDO - AS - CHILD - MADE - $250 MILLION EA -

CONSECUTIVE - YEARS - TODAY - LOTS - OF YES -

COMPETITIONS - AT - TOKYO - BECOMING - AN -

ATHLETE - AGAIN - ENTERING - SKIING - AND -

HUGE - LOOPS - LIKE - GYMNASTICS - 3 MUST -

BE - SHOWN - I - SAID - I - DID - 10 ALREADY SO -

I - WIN - SHARED - SURPASS - REQUIREMENTS -

PRACTICE - OVER - AND - OVER - UNTIL - YES -

SO - EASY - THAT’s - HOW - 2 - WIN - GOLD XO -

MEDALS - AND - WINNER - TAKES - ALL -

$2.5 MILLION

TOKYO - HAS - LOTS - OF - CONTESTS -

I - SAID - 3 - ARCHERY - MAKATI - AND -

ARCHER - OF - THE - DECADE - TRUE -

WON - BLINDFOLD - ARROW - PLACED - IN -

MIDDLE - OF - ARROW - 3 TIMES - THUS IT -

WAS - JUST - $25,000 - EACH - WIN - THERE -

EVERY - 2 WEEKS - PAID

10% - OF MERCHANDISE

PAPA JOHN’s PIZZA - 50% - OFF - ALL THEIR -

FOODS - DRINKS - MERCHANDISE - SWEET -

I - GOT - EMAIL - HOPE - I - CAN - RESPOND -

‘GOT - ANOTHER - JOB’

SO - LOOKS - GOOD - HE - HAS - AS USUAL -

BMW - KOREANS - DO - AND - LIVES - YES -

AT - BRICKELL - NOT - PANORAMA TOWER -

HE - SAID - ‘NOT - QUIET’ - WHERE HE - IS -

CONVINCED - HIM - HE’s - MOVING - 2 YES -

PANORAMA - TOWER - RENT.com - APP -

FASTEST - APPROVAL - UNITS - AVAILABLE -

TODAY - THAT - GREAT - TOLD - HIM - THE -

CONDOS - BLDG - COMING - TALLER AND -

WILL - B - TALLEST - 2 - SWIMMING POOLS -

ROOF - AND - INDOOR - FORGOT - 2 TELL -

HIM - FIRST - SOLAR - BUILDING - IN USA -

OR - WORLD - ALSO - WILL - TELL - HIM -

BUT - HE - SAID - YES - MY - REASON 4 -

WORKING - SHARED - ‘HOTEL - SOMETHING’ -

PANDORA - SAID - ‘I - DIDN’T - KNOW - 8 YES -

COMES - IN - THE - MORNING’ - EXACTLY -

WE - WENT - 2 - PRIVATE - SCHOOLS HAI -

FULL - UNIFORM - OUR - WHOLE - LIFE -

BUT - PUBLIC SCHOOL - ALSO WORE -

UNIFORM - DIFFERENT - HOURS - AS -

WE - FINALLY - HAD - BREAKFAST - AND -

NEW - 2 - SALAD - HAD - A - BAR OF AND -

ALL - U - CAN - EAT - PHILIPPINE FOODS -

BREAKFAST - IS - AWESOME - WELL - IT -

WORKED - SO - WELL - EARLY - TIME - 2 -

FOR - IT WAS - PERFECT - ATTENDANCE -

RECORD - WEEKDAYS - AND - ALL THEIR -

GRADES - WENT - UP - SKY - ROCKET - 2 -

SO - HE - SAID - I - GOT - THE - JOB - SO -

I - SAID - I - WANT - 2 - WORK - DON’T -

NEED - HIS - MONEY - BECAUSE I XO -

LOVE - ASIAN - FOOD - 10% - DISCOUNT -

MY - COUNTRY - WE’RE - CHEAPOS - XO -

AND - I’VE - BEEN - LIVING - ALONE FOR -

OVER - 25 YEARS - A - TRUE - LONER AS -

2 - MY - WORK - POINTED - I - WORKED -

NOT - 4 - THE - MONEY - BUT BECAUSE -

I - MISS - PEOPLE - AN - APRIL - ARIES -

WE - EXCEL - WITH - STRANGERS YES -

JUST - FEMALES - BORN - IN - APRIL -

ASTROLOGY - ARIES - SO - I  - WANT -

2 - WORK - HERE - HE - SAID - ‘YES’ -

SHARED - ABOUT - DAY - TRADING -

$1.3 MILLION - 30 MIN - AMAZON -

SECRETLY - BUYING - BRICKELL - CITY - CENTRE -

TAX - PAID - $25 BILLION - BECAUSE - THEY DON’T -

MAKE - MUCH - PANTY - $10,000 - THEY’RE - LIKE -

BROKE - FIRST - ACTION - HAAGEN-DAZS - LOOSES -

LEASE - ALSO - IN - RIVER - LANDING - SO - THERE -

SALT & STRAW - REPLACES - DESIGNERS - BETTER -

REPLACES - TOLD - HIM - KOREAN - GIRLS - IN THE -

PANORAMA - TOWER - WITH - WHITE - BMW - AND -

RESTAURANTS - IN - THE - BLDG - FUEL - SAVED & -

NO - DESIGNATED - DRIVER - NEEDED - 4 - YUMMY -

COCKTAILS - WHAT - A - LIFE - SHARED - MASSAGE -

ENVY - ME - CERTIFIED - ISSA - KICKBOXING - YES -

INSTRUCTOR - GYM - EMPTY - MANY - TIMES 24/7 -

FREE - TREADMILLS - HANDWEIGHTS - I - JUMP -

ROPE - 2 - WARM - UP - CHRISTA DI PAOLO - XO -

$26.80 - MONTHLY - 12 MONTHS - CHEAPER -

THAN - $169.99 - MONTHLY - OF - CKO KICK -

BOXING - BRICKELL - BREAK - OF - TIME -

EXCEPT - SUNDAYS - STUDIO D - FOR XO -

SPA - PEDICURE - HAIR - CUT - NOT - YES -

COLOR - I - DO - THAT -

[misskittysmagicportal]

can i request something to do with the thing about vincent having tics while giving oral or just vincent giving oral general i love the way you write things

I Think We're Alone Now

(Vincent Rhodes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: language, talk of mental health, fem!receiving oral

A/N: With the pandemic keeping you and Vincent apart, he was glad that being alone didn't mean being lonely.

Vincent Rhodes didn't tic as bad or as much in his thirties. He wasn't cured. He didn't take medicine that made them magically go away. He took meds for his anxiety, and the “cure” was still going to therapy with Dr Rose. He didn't go daily or weekly or even monthly anymore. He managed every other month. Sometimes, perhaps, every three to four months. Yet it took twenty-five to finally accept a cliche: Tourette's wasn't Vincent, Vincent simply HAD Tourette's.

Don't worry though, cunt is still his favorite word.

Vincent also did all the things he told Marie he wanted to do. He finished school and went to college online. He found himself rather good at computers and a job that required the bare minimum of human interaction. His Tourette's was under control, but his social anxiety never seemed to be. We digress!

He had a job, and a place to call home that wasn't a treatment facility or a hoarder’s house bogged down by sadness and alcoholism. Vincent didn't find it shameful that his father bought him a condo. He and his roommate had an agreement to pay utilities and work on the re-election campaign.

Vincent finally had a dog. A dog he had to fight for because his roommate had.. Rituals. Rituals that also weren't as bad as they used to be thanks to the same therapy and right medication. Just like you can't get rid of Tourette's, Vincent couldn't get rid of Alex either. That was his first, and really only, friend. As tumultuous as they started out, if you survive a road trip with two neurodivergents, you're pretty much bonded for life. Alex was sometimes more work than their dog.

Vincent and Alex did things in their late twenties and early thirties they never thought they'd do. They went out. They dated around. They had awkward sex and one night stands that the two of them could finally laugh about. Vincent could hide, or save his tics from popping up during his dates. He could even manage to hold them off when he had sex. He was relaxed and focused on the woman beneath or above him.

But then he would spasm, or twist and pop his mouth. He would unintentionally squeal or swear, call her names or flip her off. Instead of understanding Vincent, or talking to him, whoever the girl of the moment was would leave and never come back. Fuck her, Vincent would think. I can't help that I have Tourette’s; she can help being an asshole.

-----

There could not have been a worse time in anyone’s life for you to meet quite possibly the single hottest guy in your neighborhood. At least, you thought he was in your neighborhood. You kept running into each other at various stores to the point you found yourself quoting an old movie from college.

“Are you stalking me?” You boldly questioned him one afternoon as he pondered Mcintosh versus Fiji apples. “Because that would be super.”

The man jumped. Then to your shock, he spasmed almost violently. His neck twisted to the left as his hand held on to his chin and yelled out, “Brown haired cunt! Grass licking big tits.”

You laughed. It wasn't malicious or in jest. You were nervous and stunned. Still you replied, “Normally a guy has to date me for a while before he calls me a cunt. Now as for grass licking? That was only once, but I was high and we were playing truth or dare.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. A violent spasm rocked his body again like an aftershock. It caused him to excessively blow a dark curl back from his forehead several times before his body relaxed and he appeared to sink in on himself. Embarrassed. A pink hue spread along his cheeks and angled jaw as he gazed at the apples again with large green eyes.

“You ok? I wouldn't say I've got big tits. They're more like medium sized. Unless you were talking about the melons.” You held up two cantaloupe in front of your chest. “I’m y/n”

Again with the mouth open staring. Then he came to, “Vincent. I've never had someone react to Arthur that way.”

“I'm from New York. That was a Saturday night in the village. Who’s Arthur?” You looked around. “Are you being held hostage? Scream cunt for yes. Vagina for no.”

Vincent laughed. It was almost a giggle that you weren't sure was a laugh or his thing. “Arthur is my Tourette's. He's the clown who shits in between my thoughts. My tics. You scared the piss out of him.”

“You named your Tourette's? You can't do that, they never go away once you name them.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “ DAMMIT! I'll take away his bowl of food and dog bed too. Maybe I'll finally be cured!”

You didn't want him to think you felt something was wrong with him. “Mostly with all of this, I meant I keep seeing you around. Thought I'd say hi.”

“How about we exchange phone numbers, and you can say hello more often?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume calling me a cunt is flirting! But you got it out of the way now instead of down the line. Give me your phone.”

He obliged and you put your number in. As you handed it back you joked, “Should've told me you had a much sexier friend.” You indicated Alex on the phone’s wallpaper.

“He's gay.”

“Damn! Lucky for men. Anyways, I work most days. Don't know how long with everything happening out there. Call me sometime?”

Vincent twitched and wolf whistled. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, but promised he would nonetheless. But then pandemic happened, so all you had for the next six months was your phone

-----

You met Alex and learned his rituals and empathized with his panic to follow or abide by heath guidance. His OCD aggravated by everything going on. Vincent couldn't even go for a run without his friend completely freaking out, so he just didn't. Their balcony was it for fresh air.

You took tours of each other's apartments. Had dinners and breakfasts together. Shared what books you were reading and watched movies together. Vincent teased you about your fat, lazy cat and you did likewise over his ten pound shih tzu. Although, you admitted, it was because she got to share a bed with him.

Somehow in month 5 you were roped into a three way phone call with his dad. Senator Rhodes and Vincent seemed to have an easy relationship, but you were filled in later that it was anything but for a very long time. So you turned the tables one night, and introduced him to your entire family.

Forgetting about his Tourette's, because you had really grown used to it all. To the tics, the whistles and excessive use of the word cunt (Pandemic drinking game, Vincent’s idea) that his biggest episode since you met stunned not only you but your clan. Vincent had buried his face, you were terrified of your mistake. But you got it from somewhere.

“Sure you ain't from Brooklyn, kid?!” Thank Christ for meathead brothers.

“This is dating right?” Vincent asked after their dinner. “Pandemic, COVID, for now dating. Even though,” he paused to twist his neck, “One of my coworkers has uh, dick appointments all the time?” He snapped a finger several times and shouted something about a whore and syphilis.

“Hey! Tell Arthur to fuck off. Sexual liberation. She's not a whore, she's in her twenties!” Vincent laughed. “Are you nervous about something? Usually the bedtime part of our phone calls are the least tic-ish.”

“Wanna have sex?” He was straightforward.

“Right now? Facetime sex?” You scrunch your nose but more to be cute than creeped out.

“Here. Alex is asleep. Come over? We've been isolated for months.”

“God, I love you.”

“What?” Vincent laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

-----

Vincent opened the door and implored you to take your shoes off at the door. You expected nothing less as you complied and followed him in the stillness of the apartment to his bedroom.

The moment the door was shut, Vincent was on you before you could even adjust to the dark. Only street lamps from the neighborhood below showed through as his mouth consumed yours.

Your tongues at war with each other as the two of you scrambled to undress. Your lips broke apart long enough to throw shirts over heads and step out of flannel pants or yoga pants. Then they crashed together again as Vincent let his hands splay out the length of your back and shoulders.

Your one hand ensnared by his messy hair. The other under the waistband of his boxers and over his ass. You drew his body to yours to melt into. His erection strained and throbbed against your hip as you hungrily pushed your tongue as far inside him as you could.

The both of you eager like teenagers shot with adrenaline. Anxious and hoping Alex caught you as Vincent twitched and his shoulders shrugged up to his ears. His fingers fumbled with your bra made worse by his tics. Tics that frustrated only him; you reached and undid it for him. Your breasts were free for him to look at.

Vincent attempted to choke back his words but failed. “Tit fucker,” a sour look on his face as his eye involuntarily clamped shut, “huge nipples.” He swallowed his lips, mortified.

“Hey!! They make up for yours being the tiniest nipples I have EVER seen on a dude.” You took Vincent’s hand. “We can slow down if you want. I don't know what's up, do you tic like this every time you have sex?”

The two of you laid side by side on his bed, hands traced over inches of bare skin. Vincent was silent for a while as he let his fingers trail over you, his lips not far behind.

“I don't. I'm usually too focused. The last time I loved someone, it fell apart immediately. It's making me anxious.”

You held his head to your body with a tenderness. “I loved you first, didn't I?”

His mouth made its way amongst your breasts as he gently laid you on your back. His lips warm on your stomach and hips that he exposed by tugging your panties down over your knees and off. Vincent laid down between them and almost nuzzled his nose in your soft pubic hair before his tongue dove inside of you.

Your hips rocketed up into his mouth as you grabbed the back of Vincent's head. He licked and sucked on your sex. Small tics caused him to push his tongue and lips in further than before. They closed in on your clit. His tongue attacked it with a lapping motion that you could only bend to, helpless.

Vincent was insatiable, his mouth in a frenzy. Your fingers caught up in the sheets as the sensation of his mouth on your clit spread along your body. Now your words were a shock as they came screaming out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“Tongue fuck me! Faster!”

Instead Vincent looked up at you with a grin, “I see Arthur came to visit.”

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @bisexualnathanyoung @bwritesstuff @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private

[mgyang]

2022 First Quarter Update

I guess it wasn’t official lol.  Anaheim, I mean.  I’m learning very quickly that nothing is certain in this crazy housing market.

Brian cancelled escrow.  He wasn’t ready to deal with the problems of an 80 year old house, his end of year design presentation, and our condo renovations. The timing of all three things stressed him out.  He panic-cancelled.

Now he can’t decide whether he wants to buy a house in San Diego or in Orange County.  But whatever he decides, I told him I’d gladly accept his decision.  He’s my partner and I want to be with him regardless of where our house is located.

For Brian’s 32nd birthday, we got dinner reservations at The French Laundry, and so spent the weekend in Napa.  Friday morning we went to get English muffin breakfast sandwiches at The Model Bakery.  There were exceptional.

After breakfast, we walked around downtown with Mary Jane and perused the outside shops at Oxbow Market.  The morning was grey and chilly.  We headed back to the hotel at 8 AM so I can start my work day.  Brian and MJ chilled in the hotel room all day while I worked.

At 4 PM our Lyft picked Brian and I up at the hotel to drop us off at The French Laundry.  The town of Yountville was a beautiful idyllic community.  We were dropped off by the gardens and crossed the street to the restaurant front.  Quickly we snapped a couple photos before heading inside where we were immediately greeted by the host.  As soon as I told her my name, she beamed and said a warm, “Happy Birthday, Brian. Hope you enjoy your meal this evening.”

They seated us at a table tucked away in a corner.  The courses came out like clockwork. The food was exceptional but what put the experience over the top was the service.  Our water glasses were never allowed to go empty.  Every time we finished a glass of wine, they asked us if we’d like anything else to drink from the menu.  When we got up to use the restroom, they’d switch out our used napkins with new clean and folded napkins. All the waitstaff was kind and helpful and provided guidance on which fork to use or shared how the plate was prepped.  It was really wonderful.

Brian and I enjoyed it immensely and agreed it would be a fantastic 2nd experience to come back high.

After the 5 different types of dessert, they gave us a tour of the kitchen and took our photo before ushering us into the beautiful lawn/garden area.  In the final golden light of the day, Brian and I sat on a bench while I finished my wine.  We talked about our favorite dishes.  His was the lobster galette. Mine was the halibut with mustard sauce.  

This weekend we went camping in Yosemite with Joe and Gina.  The weather was perfect.  We hiked the Mist trail up past Nevada falls and through little Yosemite Valley and then turned back a little ways up the foresty switch backs up to sub dome.  Brian has been recovering from food poisoning all week.  We decided to turn around for everyone’s sake -- back at camp at 2:30 PM, we were very glad we got back early.  

It was a wonderful trip. I especially love being able to see the Fresno fam and observing a slice of their normal Friday life.  The chaos of getting the boys to school in the morning and then the older ones moving at their own pace on their own schedule.  Alexis came carpooled with us to Fresno for her Aunt Julie’s baby shower.  We had a good chat in the car.  She starts her new job on Monday.

So glad to be back home with Mary Jane.  We picked her up from my parent’s house where Lily and Jason were dog sitting.  MJ also had a fun weekend.  Lily sent me pictures every day. What a great life our dog has.  She is so loved.

[fantasticstoryteller]

Adopt Me

“Because you’re pathetic!” roared the man.

Wade blinked rapidly at his (former) boyfriend.

{I told you we should have killed him.}

[We still can.]

No. Wade had fought the voices for a long time. There were only a few people he refused, no matter what, to kill. The voices didn’t like that; they didn’t like restrictions.

But he had to draw the line somewhere. It was his body, and they were just sharing it with him. He had the final say—even if he did, sometimes, wonder if they were right.

{Ha!}

Wade had apparently been silent for too long. He looked up into the rage filled face of the man in front of him before he was grabbed, towed to the door, and flung outside. “You useless piece of shit,” snarled the man. “Get out! See if you can find someone else to take care of you.” He slammed the door.

{Now can we kill him?}

[Forget that. We need a place to stay. A base. Those pretty little weapons of yours that are still in the bottom of that bastard’s closet.]

White had a point. Whatever happened in the future, Wade was going to need those babies—they were how he earned a living, after all. So Wade, ignoring the boxes, waited for his (former) boyfriend to leave the house before slipping in, grabbing his gear and some clothes (not a lot of clothes; he had a lot of gear), and slipping out again.

{So…where are we going to go? Weasel’s?}

[The fucker does still owe us.]

He did—but he wouldn't be happy to see Wade. He always knew that Wade coming around was a bother. In fact—in fact Wade couldn't think of a single person who would actually be happy to see him.

[Why would anyone be happy to see you? Everyone knows what you do for a living.]

{And you’re hideous. Seriously—think about all those poor people who recoil at the sight of you. It’s sad.}

Wade sniffed. It was sad. It wasn’t like he’d asked for this (well, certainly not the fucked up appearance part). Was it wrong to want someone to just—want him around? An image flashed briefly in his mind.

[I didn’t quite catch that.]

Wade ignored White as he scrambled to find some cardboard. And a marker. Definitely a marker.

[This is a bad idea…]

***

Peter fought to keep a blandly amiable expression on his face as the host of the show apologized—to the other guest. Not a word of apology to him, and he was the one who’d been insulted. Of course, he was merely an author on this week’s top-selling list. (Actually, every top-selling list for the last two years, but that would require admitting to his other pen names.) The other guest was the lead of whatever the parent-group-of-the-week was called now, and had gotten four shows canceled in the last month. Of course she was fawned over.

And Peter was very, very careful not to take his temper out on the poor people who were responsible for actually getting the talk show to run. None of this was their fault, and he cordially said his goodbyes (to them, and not the host) before he left. Without the “security” that the studio thought he needed (honestly, did they think he was five?).

Peter was smart enough to realize that most of his irritation came from his loneliness. Sure, moving had seemed a good idea at the time—he was closer to the publishing agency, had a more central base for these stupid publicity rounds his agency forced him to do to “brand” his image. (Seriously, most of his books didn’t even have his name on them, and they were selling perfectly well. Why was the “brand” so important?) So, in the interest of having a much shorter commute, he’d moved to a condo (soundproofed which—actually hadn’t been needed, but he was forever hopeful), and left his home behind him. Not entirely behind him; he still had video chats with Aunt May every weekend, and got phone calls—occasionally—from his old friend MJ (who was now in Paris managing her own brand)—but he had no one here. He couldn't even have a pet; the condo didn’t allow it.

He passed the usual bunch of people on the street with cardboard signs—begging, playing music, the usual—when a new one made him stop. He backtracked and read the sign again. In bright, shiny letters (not sure what it was written with), were the words, “Adopt me.” His eyes tracked from the sign to the large, scarred man behind it.

“All right,” said Peter looking at the sign as wheels turned in his head. “What does it mean to adopt you?”

“Well, you take me to your home, and we spend time together, and you’re happy to see me,” the scarred man said. A pause. “Well,” he growled, “it’s not like you had a better plan!”

Someone else might have cut and run—but no one had ever accused Peter of making smart life decisions. Not twice anyway. “Are you talking to yourself?” he asked curiously.

“Just the boxes,” the scarred man said cheerfully. “I have two,” he admitted. “One’s white and one’s yellow, so I call them White and Yellow.”

Not the strangest thing he’d ever heard. Back in high school MJ had sworn that Peter had a soft, silky voice, so he figured that assigning a color to a voice wasn’t that strange. And the guy was entertaining. “My name’s Peter,” he said. “Peter Parker,” he added as he picked up the cardboard sign.

“Wade Wilson,” introduced the strange, intriguing man. “Eee! We’re alliteration buddies!”

Peter gave the happy man a lopsided grin. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“It’s a great thing!” enthused the man—Wade.

“Great! Grab your bag,” Peter said as he noticed the duffel bag behind the man, “and let’s go.”

“Go?”

“I’m adopting you,” said Peter with a smile. He couldn't have a pet—but there was nothing that said he couldn't have a human.

The large man scrambled to his feet with surprising agility as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. “You’re taking me home?” he asked with an odd, pained hopefulness in his voice.

“First I was going to take you for something to eat,” Peter admitted as the large man (almost twice his size) fell into step beside him. “I don’t have a lot of food at home,” he admitted.

“I can make pancakes,” Wade offered.

Peter felt a grin stretch his face. He was not going to be lonely, and his new roommate (adoptee?) was offering to make pancakes. Life was good.

***

[I still think this is a mistake.]

{Yeah, why’d he choose you? You’re not exactly cuddly.}

Wade tried his best to drown out the voices by talking. True to his word, the guy (Peter) had taken him to a diner. It was a strange, hole-in-the-wall place, but Wade was not complaining. The food was good. “And you would not believe how many people just glare, or kick at, or pretend they don’t see someone on the street—holy cow! These are great! What nut got the bright idea of putting eggs on nachos? They don’t even sound like they should go together, but holy fuck these are good!”

Instead of being grossed out, or complaining about his terrible table manners, Peter just smiles. “I know,” he said. “I asked Mary Anne, the woman who owns this restaurant about it the first time I had them and she told me she first had them Down South.”

The waitress, a blond young woman about the same age, came over and refilled both their drinks. “Yes,” she said. She turned to Wade who froze mid-bite, wondering if he was going to be thrown out of the restaurant. It had happened before. A lot. Instead the woman simply jerked a thumb towards Peter. “First two weeks we were open he was here every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Worked his way right through the whole menu.” She snorted. “Had questions about every dish. ‘What made you decide to make this?’ ‘What was your inspiration for that?’ ‘Can I please have some tea that doesn’t taste like someone dropped half a gallon of sugar into it?’ Drove us all crazy.”

Peter simply smiled. “What can I say? I used to work for Foodies Unite.”

Wade gave a low, appreciative whistle. “That magazine that tracks the best food across the city?” he asked impressed.

Peter flashed a grin. “I put the really good ones,” he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “on my blog.”

Wade burst out laughing as the waitress gave him a friendly swat. “You,” he said waving an egg-crusted fork at his dining buddy, “are an absolute trip.” Peter simply grinned and sipped his coffee.

[Careful Wade. You’re going to make him run.]

{We could kill him first. Then we won’t have to see the disgust later.}

No, thought Wade firmly, desperately. No killing.

{Not yet…}

Wade shoved the voices back as he realized that Peter was speaking. “… so there should be plenty of room in the closet for your clothes,” Peter said.

“I—uh, don’t really have clothes,” admitted Wade sheepishly. He had what he was wearing and his work suit—but nothing else. Peter’s gaze drifted to the huge duffel on the seat beside Wade.

[Still can’t do anything right. He’s going to ask, be horrified, and then what?]

{Out on the streets again!}

Yellow sounds obnoxiously cheerful about that. To his surprise Peter—doesn’t ask. Instead he simply nods. “Then,” he said with a sly smile, “it’s my job to get you clothes.” He paid for the food and the next thing Wade knew he was in a store with lots of mirrors, a plush couch that Peter was reclining on (with the duffel bag to his left) wearing a small smile as Wade was swarmed by what he swore were midgets.

[I don’t think that term’s politically correct.]

{Can we call them Munchkins? I mean, they’re about the same size.}

“I think the deep azure,” one Munchkin said to another.

“Violet,” argued the other.

“Azure will bring out the eyes.”

“Hmm.” Both little people turned to stare at him with a clinical expression Wade was more used to seeing on the other end of a scalpel as more of the little people swarmed around him getting measurements.

“Peter,” said Wade anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” reassured the other man. “You’re doing great.”

The first little person smacked Wade on the arm. “Come,” he ordered. “Time to try on clothes.” The tiny humans lead him off to a room, shove clothes at him, and leave him to change. He does, shakily, and then looks at his reflection in the mirror.

The deep blue shirt does bring out his eyes—and stands as a stark contrast to his mottled skin.

{Ask for a mask. A mask might help.}

[Oh, he’s beyond help.]

Shaking slightly he walks out to see Peter standing, pacing, and talking on the phone. “I just told the truth.” A pause and Peter sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony Stark,” he said viciously, “is an alcoholic womanizing vampire having issues with his sexual identity. There is no part of that description that says, ‘Hey, I’m safe for kids, bring the whole family!’” Another pause. “Well, maybe it’s high time someone did.” He hung up, turned, saw Wade and—unbelievably—smiled. “You look good,” he said approvingly.

[He’s lying!]

{Aw! He cares enough to lie!]

Peter turned to the dwarf in charge. “I want four of those, another two in short sleeves, and—”

“And the dress suit will be ready in three weeks,” finished the dwarf, “all billed to your account.”

Peter grinned. “You know me well,” he said. The dwarf snorted as another one of its kind handed Peter a series of bags. Peter took the bags, slung them over his shoulder, and then hoisted the duffel in the air and towards Wade.

[Holy—twig-boy here is stronger than he looks!]

Peter smiled at Wade. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

***

Peter couldn't help but grin at how enthusiastically Wade ran around the condo, poking his head into almost every nook and cranny as he almost knocked the flat screen off the wall. “Baby Boy, you’ve got everything here!” the large man rambled as he wandered. “TV, state-of-the-art kitchen, bookcases and The Spider!” he exclaimed suddenly as he grabbed a book off the shelf. “You’ve got The Spider series!”

Peter chuckled as he pulled up and booted his laptop. It was an older model without internet capabilities, but it worked and he didn’t have to worry too much about hackers. “I have the whole series,” he said to Wade’s obvious delight as he settled down to work.

Wade gasped as he pressed the book to his chest. “Even the first three? No one has the first three!”

That was because no one had believed The Spider would be popular. Peter chuckled at the irony. “The early issues on the shelf to your left,” Peter said as he brought up the relevant file. Nothing soothed Ned like a new chapter.

Wade slammed himself down on the couch, hooking his legs over Peter’s lap. He managed to get his laptop out of the way just in time. “Oh, man, I’ve loved these since they came out,” Wade babbled. “There’s just something so wholesome about a guy working among killers and not killing anyone, you know?”

Peter smiled as he got to typing, words coming faster now that they weren’t stifled by loneliness. “Glad to hear it,” he said absently working on the newest chapter of his Stark novels. Wade’s constant commentary was soothing to hear in the formerly empty apartment.

The knocking came a shock. Even more shocking, was the way Wade was suddenly tense, in front of Peter, and pointing a gun at the door. Peter saved his work, printed the latest chapter (he was well into the next one), and gently pat Wade’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s probably just my agent.”

“Okay,” said Wade, gun not wavering in the slightest.

“That I should probably let in now,” hinted Peter.

“Sure.”

“Wade? Put the gun away.” The man blinked and obeyed and only then did Peter get up to let Ned in.

“You’ve really done it now,” Ned said as he came into the apartment. He fiddled with the edges of his scarf in agitation. “You’ve gone and upset the entire group! They’re calling for your head Peter!”

“And in doing so bring my books to the attention of whomever hasn’t heard of them yet,” Peter said as he walked over to the printer. He picked up the chapter and then walked back.

Ned came to a stop as he saw Wade, leaning against the couch with a book in his lap and the gun to his right. “Who are you?” he asked with a little trepidation.

“Ned, this is Wade, my new roommate. Wade this is Ned, my agent.”

Wade waved a single finger. “Hiyas,” he said cheerfully.

“Um. Hi.” Ned turned to Peter. “Where’d he come from?” he demanded.

Peter sighed. “I adopted him.”

“What?”

“Well, he was on the side of the road with a sign that said, ‘Adopt Me,’ so I did,” Peter explained.

“Peter,” sighed Ned as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses, “you can’t just take random people home. It’s irresponsible. It’s—what’s this?”

Peter grinned as Ned finally took notice of the typing paper. “My latest chapter,” he said smugly. “Unless, you don’t want it?”

Ned glared at him before snatching the paper and beginning to read. His expression quickly changed as he flipped through the pages. “Ugh! What? Oh…” The muttering sounded almost similar to Wade’s muttering as he flipped through The Spider books. “Holy shit!” Ned whirled to look at Peter. “For real?”

Peter smiled. “See what happens when I’m not lonely?” he asked mildly.

Ned turned to Wade. “I’m sorry for every bad thing I thought about you,” he said earnestly.

“Uh—”

“I see you have a gun, do you know how to use it?”

Wade was clearly on firmer ground. “Guns, knives, swords—if it can kill people I can use it.”

“Excellent,” said Ned with satisfaction before jerking a thumb towards Peter. “That idiot pissed off the head of Parents First this morning.”

Wade, to Peter’s surprise, winced. “That bitch?” he asked.

Ned reached over and pat Wade’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to keep him alive. The new book must be published.”

“Hey!” protested Peter.

“I will do my best,” said Wade. “What? No, I wouldn't do that!”

Ned sighed. “Only you, Pete. Only you.”

***

After Peter left to go do Author things (it’s just an interview—they’re not going to tie me to a stake and watch me burn on live television unless the stake and flames are metaphorical Wade, and I can handle that) Wade decided to take it upon himself to make sure that his new bestie didn’t get killed.

[I’m not sure you can call the two of you “besties.”]

{He certainly doesn’t seem to have a lot of self-preservation. In one day he pissed off one of the most dangerous fanatical non-religious groups in the world and took us home with him. It’s almost like he wants to die.}

Wade frowned as he paused outside his old haunt, back in gear. Did Peter have a death wish? No, the guy was too happy for that—but he did seem rather lonely. Wade shrugged. He was just going to have to make sure that Peter wasn’t lonely, that was all. He waltzed into the bar and ducked as several knives were thrown at him. “Oh! Mean!” he complained as he made his way to the bar. “Gosh,” he said as he levered himself into a stool, “you’d think that people wanted to kill me!”

Weasel, the bartender, snorted. “Everyone wants to kill you Wade,” he said calmly as he filled someone’s liquor order before putting the glass on a tray for the waiter to take to a table. “It’s just that no one can.”

Wade nodded. “True that,” he agreed as Weasel slapped a beer in front of him.

“New micro-brewer,” he said. “I’m thinking of signing a contract with ‘em.” Wade made a show of tasting the beer by taking a sip and swishing it from cheek to cheek, even going so far as to gargle with it. “And?” asked Weasel.

Wade burped. “Tastes like beer.”

“Fuck you Wade.” Weasel calmly continued to make drinks. “Heard Nate threw you out. Surprised you didn’t come crash on my couch like usual.”

[I know I keep saying the whole thing with Peter is a bad idea, but not crashing with Weasel was a good one.]

{Why didn’t we kill the ex again?}

[Because Wade has limits, and he’s one of them.]

Wade ignored the voices as he glanced up at the bounty board. Most places had a digital website. Weasel insisted that was too easy to hack, hence the blackboard. (Everyone else called him cheap.) There, at the top of the list, was the name Peter Parker. The bounty was, of course, insanely huge.

Wade hummed before he grinned at Weasel. “Well,” he said brightly, “I got tired of people not wanting to see me, so I got a cardboard box and wrote ‘adopt me’ on it!”

“Sounds like the crazy kind of shit you’d do,” admitted Weasel calmly. “Then what?”

“Then someone did!” said Wade cheerfully. “A sweet, innocent little guy named Peter.”

Weasel paused in what he was doing. “Wade—” he said half in warning, half in fear.

“Peter Parker,” continued Wade. The bar was suddenly silent as he kept talking. “And if anyone,” he sang, “tries to lay a hand on that sweet, naive piece of ass, I will destroy theirs with a cheese grater.” A soft snort got his attention and he turned to look at the young woman at the bar next to him.

[Oh. My. God. Is that who I think it is?]

{Kill her! She’s after Peter!}

Karen Wishstone. The weirdest, strangest person he’d ever met. She was almost invisible—until she wasn’t. Her skill set would have made her a good assassin if she hadn’t made it a point not to kill.

{Oh! You think The Spider was based on her?}

Weasel sighed. “What are you doing here, Karen?” he asked warily.

Karen rolled her eyes as she swished the liquid in her bottle around lazily. “Relax Weasel,” she ordered. “I’m just in town to visit friends, and I thought I’d take a look at the bounty board while I’m here. See if there’s anything small to Stalk while I’m in town.”

“And?” demanded Weasel warily.

She held out placating hands. “It’s all too grand for me. This isn’t my town.”

[She could be lying. You know what they say about her. The first you know she’s there is when you wake up in Retrieval.]

{Kill her!}

Wade paused. Everyone knew that Karen was so good at what she did because no one saw her coming. If someone knew she was in town, that person was safe. “How do you feel about meeting my roomie?” he asked.

“Peter Parker?” she asked. He nodded. “The writer?” He nodded again. She sighed. “I’m not sure he’d want to see me,” she told him. “Last time I was in town we didn’t—exactly part on the best of terms.”

[Wait. She knows Peter?]

{I don’t like that she doesn’t want to see him. Can we kill her now? Please?}

“Why don’t I ask?” Wade thought the request was reasonable, but was checking to see how she took it.

To his surprise she seemed to mull it over. Then she smiled. “Okay,” she said. “Let me know what he says. I’m sure Weasel here’s already found out what hotel I’m at, how long I’m booked to stay, and where my dog is.”

Weasel doesn’t deny it. “I still haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you were in town,” he growled.

“And if you had proof that was my fault; I would be banned,” said Karen with a grin and a salute of her bottle.

***

Peter tried not wince as Wade mentioned Karen. He remembered the last time the two of them met. It certainly could have gone worse—but not by much. He looked over where Wade was shredding lettuce for their tacos. “I remember Karen,” he said evenly.

Wade chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s how she said you’d react, but I thought you’d want to see the person who inspired you to write The Spider.”

Peter paused. “You know I wrote that?” he asked looking at Wade in surprise. His name wasn’t the one on the spine of the books.

Wade instantly looked bashful. “Well—it fits,” he said nervously.

Peter grinned. “I’m shocked,” he said. He gave a low, happy hum as he sliced the olives. “You’re the first one to figure I wrote them,” he said. “I don’t think Ned even knows.”

“Who publishes them?” asked Wade as he grabbed a block of cheese and began to scrape it against the grater.

“Same people,” admitted Peter. “They’ve just never met me, as the author of The Spider. As far as they know the author of those books is a weirdo freak that always mails in his manuscripts.” He paused. “Actually, from listening to the gossip opinions seem pretty split on whether the author is male or female.” He reached over for some of the cheese and his hand brushed Wade’s.

Peter wasn’t sure what he was expecting—but it wasn’t Wade’s reaction. The man paled between his scars and then flung himself in a corner as he tried to use his shirt to cover all his exposed bits of skin. “Wade?” he asked as he looked at the shivering figure in confusion.

“—rry. Sorry,” whimpered Wade.

“What?” asked Peter. He gentled his voice as he turned off the stove burner before going over to Wade and crouching by him. “For what?” he asked softly, gently.

“Know it’s bad,” Wade whispered.

“Wade?” Peter reached out and the other man flinched. He paused, not certain of what the best thing to do was. His instincts told him to comfort the man—but how? He reached out a little further and rested his palm—gently—on Wade’s scarred cheek. “Wade? Are you okay?” Wide, frightened eyes looked up at him. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, Wade.”

Wade blinked as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Suddenly he threw himself into Peter’s lap, gripping the smaller man as though he was about to disappear. Peter, hoping he was doing the right thing, gently rubbed Wade’s back. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “See? Everything is all right.”

“…not,” Wade’s voice was soft, fragile—hurting.

The change in attitude bothered Peter more than he let on. He kept rubbing Wade’s back as Wade pressed his face into Peter’s stomach. “Everything is all right.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Wade a little more clearly. He held Peter just a little tighter.

“For what?” asked Peter. Wade mumbled something. Peter could only make out a single word. “Wade? What’s disgusting?”

“Me,” whined the man.

If Peter hadn’t been on the floor already, if he hadn’t been holding Wade, he would have stumbled in shock. What had happened to make this cheerful, happy man think so little of himself? Peter’s mind flashed back to finding Wade on the street with the cardboard sign. He should have asked more.

“Wade,” said Peter gently, “you’re not disgusting.”

“I am,” cried Wade. Peter was startled to see that the larger man was actually crying. “Disgusting, revolting, horrifying.”

“No,” protested Peter. He stroked the back of Wade’s head, fingers running along the scarred tissue. Wade didn’t even look up. “You’re not,” Peter said again.

Wade gave a dry, broken laugh. “I know what I look like,” he said bitterly.

Peter’s heart broke for the man. “Hey, Wade. Look at me. Hey,” he said as he pushed Wade’s head up to force the man to look at him. “Look at me. I don’t think you’re disgusting. I don’t think you’re revolting.” He snagged one of Wade’s hands and interlaced their fingers together. “You’re wonderful just the way you are,” he said firmly.

Wade looked into Peter’s eyes and the smaller man would swear he was trying to find the lie in the words. Suddenly he chuckled—but it sounded at lot less broken. “You must be blind,” he said wearily.

“No,” argued Peter firmly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Wade’s head. “I just see better than other people,” he said. As Wade slowly calmed down Peter wondered: just who had taught the man to hate himself so badly?

He also wondered if he had enough to put a hit out on the person responsible.

***

“So this is where you get off to.” Peter turned, not particularly surprised to see Karen behind him. She shrugged. “Between books.”

“Karen,” he said warily as he faced one of two people who knew all his secrets. He wasn’t worried about it; Karen probably knew everyone’s secrets. She didn’t talk much.

Karen pat the seat of the bench next to her. “Have a seat. Jogging isn’t going to help,” she added knowingly.

About to ask how she knew he was trying to jog some sense into what happened with Wade, Peter sighed. She’d never tell. And she might not even be talking about Wade. “What brings you to New York?” he asked as he took a seat.

“Seeing old friends. Meeting new ones. Watching a familiar idiot get a bounty of almost four million put on his head.”

Peter didn’t assume the sentences were unconnected. “No one’s going to Stalk me, Karen,” he said wearily.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “No, they’re not. Wade got in front of the whole bar and told them all they’d have to go through him to get you.” She chuckled. “No one can get past Wade, so it doesn’t matter how big the bounty gets; no one will be willing to try.”

“Wade did?” asked Peter. He felt a confusing combination of flattered and worried.

“Wade has his own secrets,” Karen said simply. She looked at him. “You might consider sharing some of yours. He’s one of three people who won’t judge you about what happened, Peter.”

Peter snorted. “You don’t judge me.”

“I don’t count.” When Peter opened his mouth to protest she added, “I don’t count, because you don’t care what I think.” She smiled—small, knowing. “You care what he does.” She stood up. “Keep it in mind,” she advised before walking off.

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. There was really no point in asking more questions of Karen. Not only was she gone, but she wouldn't answer. He’d have to figure out what she meant on his own.

***

Wade was worried. It was one thing for Peter to be okay with seeing his skin on a daily basis—

[The horror show that it is.]

—but it was another for the guy to actually have to touch it.

{Why do you think he was apologizing? It wasn’t his fault our hands touched.}

[Because Peter’s a nice guy and we were upset. That’s the only reason he said we weren’t disgusting to touch.]

{How far do you think that niceness goes? I mean, he did kiss us.}

[On the FOREHEAD Yellow. The same place parents use to check if their kids are running a fever.]

“Yo, Wade!” impact to the back of the head made it impossible to ignore. He turned to see—Karen?

“What’s up duck?” asked Wade curiously.

She rolled her eyes. “You wanted to introduce me to your author friend,” she reminded him.

[Didn’t she say that wouldn't go well?]

“I thought you said he wouldn't want to see you,” said Wade.

“One way to find out,” said Karen as she poked him again. “So? Where do the two of you lovebirds live?” she asked.

Wade and the boxes sputtered. “They’re—we’re not lovers!” he protested.

“And I’m not a spine,” said Karen agreeably.

{… Was that supposed to make sense?}

“I don’t understand,” complained Wade as he walked towards the condo building.

“Clearly. Have you told Author Boy what you do for a living yet?”

{Tell the writer of those sweet little books that we kill people for a living? I don’t think that would go over well.}

[I hate to agree with Yellow, but why don’t we kill this bitch?]

“Because I’d kill you and then disappear while you were fixing yourself,” she said calmly.

Wade paused. That was new. “You didn’t use to be able to hear the boxes,” he said slowly.

She shrugged. “I didn’t used to be able to do a lot of things. Now hurry up; my time in New York is coming to an end and I want to get this done.”

“You’re not Stalking Peter, are you?” asked Wade nervously as they entered the building.

“No, I’m applying the Hammer.”

“What?” They reached the condo and went inside.

Karen ignored him. “Hi, Peter,” she said calmly. She shut the door behind them, pulled a gun and blew Wade’s brains out.

***

Peter stared in shock before staring at her. “You don’t kill people!” he hissed shrilly.

She shrugged as she pocketed the gun again. “And I didn’t,” she replied calmly. “But this was taking too long.” She met his eyes as wet noises began to emanate from Wade’s prone body. “Both of you have secrets, Peter. It’s time to tell them.”

“Holy fucking shit-turds!” snarled Wade as his head visibly knit back together. “That hurt.”

Karen gave him a nudge with her foot. “Stop whining,” she advised him. “We both know you’ll be fine.”

“That hurt!”

“And you were dithering. I don’t have much time left in New York. And now,” she added firmly, “that the Hammer has been properly applied, I have a woman to see about a dog. Oh,” she said pausing before she opened the door, “there’s a chance the woman responsible for the bounty on your head might be dead tomorrow. Do with that what you will.” She turned and left.

Peter, watching the man he had just watched die get up from the floor and start muttering about bloodstains, collapsed to the couch. “What?” he asked, confused.

Wade began pacing. When Peter could see his back he could see that the back of the other man’s head was literally knitting itself together before his eyes. “No, that’s a terrible idea!” Wade complained as he rubbed hands over his head in agitation. “He’ll hate us!”

And again, Peter’s heart broke for the man. He got up, got into Wade’s way, and hugged the larger man. “I won’t hate you,” he promised.

“Peter, you can’t say that,” Wade protested. Despite his words his arms went around the smaller man and Peter quickly hugged him back. “You don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Peter challenged. “Tell me everything.”

Wade took a deep breath. “After the Dark War,” he began, “my unit was called for some—some experiments.”

Peter could feel how Wade was shaking. “What kind of experiments?” he asked.

“They said they could make me unkillable. Impossible to defeat. Immortal.” He clutched Peter tighter. “I was young and stupid and didn’t ask—” He took several deep breaths as Peter began rubbing the man’s back, trying to soothe him. “It was—I’ll just say it was Hell. Every step of the way and when it ended—when it ended I looked like this.” Suddenly Wade gave a dry, broken laugh, eerily similar to the one he’d voiced before. “I killed them all,” he admitted flatly, no emotion coloring his voice. “But—I was trapped like this. Forever.”

“Oh, Wade.” Peter pressed his face into the man’s chest, feeling the rough scars beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. “I’m sorry you feel trapped,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re here,” he added.

Wade hugged him tighter and pressed his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. “You’re the only one who’s ever said that,” he admitted.

***

[I can’t believe he’s still here.]

{I can’t believe we’re still here. The stick boy didn’t kick us out! We don’t have to crash with Weasel and hope the bastard forgives us!}

[We should kill him.]

{That’s what I’ve been saying!}

No, Wade thought firmly, careful not to speak. Peter had (miraculously) fallen asleep in Wade’s arms. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had. Peter was a lot of firsts for Wade. The first to purely enjoy his company, without any monetary incentives. (Even the ex had demanded partial payment of Wade’s bounties—but Peter didn’t care.) The first to make someone else happy to see him. (He still remembered the happy, accepting look on the agent’s face after thinking that Wade was a danger to Peter to realizing he would protect Peter.

{The first not to think we’re disgusting.}

Yellow seemed to be coming to like Peter just as much as Wade was. As much as Wade did.

[There is something seriously wrong with this man. We should never leave.]

Wade blinked. Those two statements didn’t seem to mesh. Before he could try to interrogate White, Peter stirred gently. “I’ve got an idea,” the smaller man said.

“What is it?” asked Wade curiously.

“Wade, exactly what happens when a bounty is brought in to Retrieval?”

[I take it back. Ditch him. Ditch him now. This is a bad idea!]

“Why?” asked Wade curiously.

Peter shifted his head so that he could grin up at Wade. “Because I’ve got an idea,” he said smugly.

***

Peter grinned as he looked around the noisy, messy room. There was a high number of corpses, but that was to be expected. People were watching the two of them warily, but that was also to be expected. After all, it wasn’t every day that the most famous (notorious) Stalker in New York brought a living bounty into Retrieval. Even rarer that the bounty and the Stalker were flirting.

The woman working the desk sighed. “Deadpool,” she said wearily, “what are you doing?”

Peter looked at the costumed man next to him with curiosity, which was fairly normal, and no fear—which, given people’s reactions, was not normal. “Deadpool?” he asked his red leather-clad friend.

“Aw it’s—it’s just a nickname,” Wade said bashfully.

The woman at the desk snorted. “He,” she said pointing at the Stalker, “once filled a pool with dead bodies. Claimed he wanted to see if it really was possible to fill a pool with blood.”

“They deserved it!” protested Wade as he remembered the incident.

“What happened?” asked Peter curiously.

Wade stilled completely for a moment. “Something bad,” he said grimly. “Trust me—death was the least they deserved.”

“They were traffickers,” the woman at the desk explained. “I don’t know the full details, but Deadpool here killed them all, piled them into the dry pool at one of their homes, and got his moniker.”

Peter nudged Wade with his shoulder. “So you were protecting people,” he said.

“Kind of. Maybe. Almost?” said Wade. “They just—all three of us were really pissed off.”

All three of them. Wade and the two voices in his head, White and Yellow. Peter leaned against his friend again. He couldn't see through the mask that the other man was wearing, but he was willing to bet that he was nervous. He wanted Wade to know that it was okay, that Peter wasn’t going to abandon him.

And, once again, Peter felt a surge of rage at whomever had.

His musings were interrupted as a woman, the woman, sauntered over to where they were. He could tell, from the smug look on her face, that she was expecting to be identifying his corpse. She was about to be in for a big shock; it was high time she learned that the world wasn’t hers to run. Peter was more than happy to be instrument teaching that particular lesson.

The woman came to a shocked stop as she looked at Peter, still breathing, sitting on the bench next to one of the most infamous Stalkers in the city—maybe, if what the woman at the desk had been hinting at all afternoon was correct, the world. Her eyes began to narrow and she opened her mouth to speak.

Peter spoke first. “Hi,” he said brightly, in the over-the-top tone that most people (stupid people) used on small children and animals. “I’m Peter. This is my boyfriend, Wade,” he said gesturing to the costumed man to his right. Wade froze again. Calling him a boyfriend hadn’t been part of the plan, and Peter would figure out if he’d offended the man later. Right now the problem was that he had to do something about this woman. Peter stood up and put his hands in his pockets as he rocked from the balls to the heels of his feet. “You know, he told me that someone had put my name on the Bounty Board and you know what I said? I said, ‘Why don’t you collect it, Wade?’ And here we are.” Peter gestured to the Retrieval warehouse that they were in. “And you know what? Each and every single time that someone puts my name on that board, we’ll be here. So he can collect his payment.”

He knew; of course he knew, that it was impossible to insist that the person on the board being brought in be dead when they arrived. She knew, and he knew that she knew, that he now had a plan in place for when that happened to him. She couldn't use the Bounty Board to kill him.

She paled, paid, and left.

Wade and Peter left shortly after, giving her a little bit of a head start on them (they didn’t want to risk running into her). Wade walked in uncharacteristic silence for a moment. “You called me your boyfriend,” he said softly.

Peter peered up at him. He wished that Wade wasn’t wearing his mask; he would like to see the expression on his face. “Do you mind?” he asked anxiously. “If you do, we don’t have to—”

“Mind?” asked Wade. He hugged Peter close. “Of course I don’t mind! I’d love to be your boyfriend!”

Peter grinned and hugged back. A slight tingle of his spine had him throwing the two of them to the side as a large fist slammed into the ground where they’d been. Wade leaped away and pulled one of his swords (was that one of the things that had been in the duffel bag?) as Peter ducked another punch and landed on a tree.

The man glared at Wade. “I see you’re keeping busy,” he snarled.

“Had to leave,” said Wade.

Peter frowned. Wade didn’t sound happy, or quippy, or sarcastic—but defeated. He glared at the large man. Was this the reason why Wade had been on the street in the first place? Why he’d been so terrified of being touched?

The man opened his mouth to growl something—and his face went slack as he suddenly toppled over. Karen popped out of the bushes behind him and pulled a dart out of the man’s butt. “You still don’t have any survival sense,” she said calmly as she tied the large man up. A puppy, it looked young but came up to her knees, danced out of the bushes and towards them, yapping. “He’s been following the two of you since you left the condo this morning. Probably thought now would be a good time to make a move.” She tightened the leather restraints.

Peter looked at her. “Being a hammer again, Karen?” he asked. He still wasn’t entirely certain what she’d meant by that.

“No,” she said absently as the puppy danced around the man as if it was showing off a kill. “If I was, I’d point out to your shiny new boyfriend there how you’re sticking to the side of an oak tree by your hands and feet.”

A chill rushed through Peter’s veins as he realized that she was right. The danger had been familiar and the move so natural that he hadn’t even thought twice about it. Of course not. Why would he? He hadn’t been in that position for a long time now. He turned wide eyes to Wade to see the whites of the mask staring at him. He assumed Wade was looking at him behind the mask, but he wasn’t sure.

Especially since Wade addressed Karen. “So—are you taking him to Retrieval? What do you get out of it?”

Karen turned to grin at the two of them as the dog lifted a leg and peed on the unconscious man’s face. “Bragging rights,” she said smugly. “I was in the bar last night, trading verbal spars with Weasel, when this idiot came in bragging about how no quote, ‘prissy little bitch who can’t even properly kill’ could get him.” She wrapped the man’s legs with another leather strip. “Best part is, I won’t even have to stay in town. No one in that bar will let him forget it—he might even end up infamous on the ‘net if he’s not lucky.”

“And you hope he’s not lucky,” said Wade with insight.

Karen looked up at them again and Peter could see the amusement glinting in her eyes. “He���s an ass,” she said bluntly before pulling something from her pocket. It unrolled into a contraption with wheels and she maneuvered the large man (almost twice her size) onto it. The puppy jumped onto the body and sat, wagging its tail.

“Who’s the dog?” asked Peter as he climbed down from the side of the tree.

“Brucie. I’m training him to replace Brutus.”

“Ah—”

“He retired.” She grabbed a handle of the folding wagon and then waved at the two of them. “Nice to see you got your relationship stuff sorted out. Have fun you crazy kids.” She pulled the wagon and left.

Wade waved back and, without turning to look at Peter again, asked, “You—do you want to talk about it?” The words were tentative.

Peter sighed. It looked like it was his turn to talk about his past. “Wade I—you know The Spider?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he wasn’t based on Karen.” There was a moment of silence and Peter sighed again. He wondered if Wade would decide to leave after this revelation. Not that Peter could blame him. “Everything in the books are true.”

“So, there really was an evil scientist trying to recreate the Dark War?”

Peter winced. He’d looked up to Norman as a father for years and it still hurt to hear the man called that. Norman hadn’t been evil—but he had been insane. “Yeah,” he said wearily. “When—when it all happened I had to write it down. I changed the names,” he added. He hadn’t thought changing the names would be enough to fool people—but he’d been wrong. “And I wanted everyone to know what had happened so I pulled three jobs and paid to get the first three volumes published. Everything after that was older stuff, remembered stuff.”

“Oh.” Wade sidled a little closer to Peter. “Are we—are we still boyfriends?” he asked.

Peter looked at the larger man and then smiled. “Only if you want to be,” he said with a smile.

***

No one knew why Deadpool suddenly joined The Spider on his adventures in the world of fiction. And, unlike his Stark novels and despite Deadpool’s attitude, they were still made for children. They were also, to no one’s surprise, popular.

[bard-of-worlds]

Chapter 12

Sorry i’ve been gone guys, this chapter just killed me and then i fell into another fandom and then my novel......... Sorry again i will try and have the next chapter out this month.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mari got expelled without a hearing!? That ain’t right dude!” Jagged growled and Penny nodded as Fang growled from where he sat at Jagged’s feet.  

Penny had made it back to the hotel and up to their suite and after a few moments had told Jagged everything that Sabine had told her.  

 “They're dealing with it Jagged, but Sabine and this Nora said something about homeschooling Marinette and another one, probably more if this is as bad as Sabine said it was then it might cause the school to close!” Penny said and Jagged whistled and shook his head as dark memories went through him.  

 “Heavy.” Jagged said and Penny nodded.  I remember how my school treated me because of what I wanted to do, how they tried to use peer pressure to try and change my mind. Never worked but I did learn who I could trust there, hard lesson but one I needed.  Jagged thought as he looked at Penny.

 “But there’s another problem Jagged. According to Sabine she heard from Marinette that this liar has been telling stories about knowing celebrities.” Penny said and Jagged scoffed and looked at his partner.

 “Why would that matter more than what she did to Mari?” Jagged asked as he picked up a glass of water.

 “She’s only sixteen. And she said you wrote a song about her because she saved your cat from being run over by an airplane when she was fourteen.” Penny said bluntly as Jagged started to drink from his cup. Jagged drank for a few seconds before his eyes went wide and he spat the water out and Fang started to growl.

 “Good Rock and Roll! I could be accused of courting a minor! 

Can we sue her for anything Penn?” Jagged asked and Penny grinned at him.

 “No, it was never put on the web by any of the kids she told it to, the Ladyblogger even edited the interview she had of the liar to leave it out. But we can speak as a character witness that it never happened and help them put this little bitch away!” Penny said and Jagged laughed and smirked.

 “I can’t wait until that happens love, but I’m worried about little Mari at that place!” Jagged said and Penny grinned.

 “Sabine said they’re considering home school because of what happened to Mari, this might be good for them all.” Penny said and Jagged nodded.  

 “Good, so the last of the spots for the next tour are ready then?” Jagged asked and Penny nodded.  

 “I’m just waiting on replies for the last three venues and Sabine told me that Marinette will be done with the last of the costumes for the shows by tomorrow night if nothing happens but with this city…… And she said that they might home school Marinette, but about the last show before we leave...... it will be good to get away from this place, and to release our emotions healthily.” Penny said and Jagged nodded as Fang ragged his tail.

 “Might be for the best if that happened to her……. Still, this might be good, might let the little lady handle her education and her design career better.” Jagged said and looked into his past as he remembered how he got into show business and the first few gigs he had, and that was all after he had become homeschooled and everything.  

 “Maybe, but this is going to be a very big mess if half of what Sabine tells me about the school is true.” Penny said and then Jagged looked at her for a minute.  

 “Isn’t that place where the guy who was Akumatized into The Owl is the principal?” Jagged asked and Penny nodded and Fang started to growl. “Yeah Fangster I don’t like him either.”

 Penny looked at Jagged as he sat and stewed and she knew from comments he had made over the years that he had a few scars from his own school years. And she had to admit that she hadn’t had a good time in that school with that racist bastard as a principal. But still, this wasn’t about them, it was about Marinette.

 “So besides we have nothing we can sue her for? Please tell me we do.” Jagged begged and Penny looked away and went over everything she knew about the incident and then frowned.

 “No, and since it was in school when she said that, and because the Ladyblogger………. Wait a moment. We might have something, I’ll need to call Sabine and have Marinette ask her friend if she still has the original interview that the Liar gave her……. Then maybe just maybe.” Penny said and Jagged grinned and Fang wagged his tail. Penny looked between them and tried to calm them down. “I said maybe, maybe. I’ll need to talk to our lawyer and it’s their anniversary tonight so I’ll call tomorrow but I might not be able to get in touch before noon.”

 “Oh yeah, it’s that time of year insist it? Remember when we walked in on them?” Jagged said and chuckled as Penny went red as she did remember how they had surprised them and what the two had been doing.

 “I’ll just call and make sure it’s not video. But even if Marinette is doesn’t get us the clothing we order by the weak after next then we still have a month to get everything ready for our departure, and we have a city-wide show before we leave of course that we have the costumes for already.” Penny reminded Jagged and he laughed and looked up at the ceiling before smirking at her.

 “Good, with luck we might just celebrate the show with the closing of a terrible school! I can’t wait until they tell us what’s going on!” 

Jagged said and looked at Penny and smirked at her friend as he celebrated.    Jagged is such a man-child! Still, the fact that he’s bounded with Marinette and her parents as much was good for all of them! Still, he has a lot of baggage that I hope he can put to rest. Still, I hope that Marinette is okay after everything is done, I mean this is terrible, why on earth would that idiot even have done this?  Penny thought as Jagged looked at her and smirked.

 XXXXXXX

 As the kwami ate their little feasts and the teens ate their sandwiches Fu frowned as he stroked his beard. 

 “So you say that you could see Hawkmoth talk to the Akuma?” Fu asked and when Sabrina nodded he put his head down and muttered prays of forgiveness and creativity.  Why didn’t I think of taking out the Dog, if I had even tried to use it then we could have found Hawkmoth by now!  He thought as he tried to figure out anything else he might have missed but he couldn’t see anything

 “You didn’t even think it was possible, did you?” Alya asked dryly and Fu shook his head, completely shocked about what he was told.

 “No I…..I had no idea there was even a small possibility of it Barkk’s powers working like that. I mean nothing in all my training and the grimoire even mentions this was possible.” Fu said and the kwami started to chuckle and laugh a bit in Plagg’s case.

 “My chosen have seen when mages cast curses at our side during battles in days of old, this may be like back then.” Barkk said and Sabrina looked thoughtful and frowned, her mind going strange places as she looked at Barkk who looked back at Sabrina with a grin. “Up for trying again the next time partner?”

 “Yeah, I am! If it’s okay that he stays with me that is.” Sabrina said as she blushed and Fu nodded.

 “I was thinking about having them stay with all of you, with the exception of Wayzz for now.” Fu said and looked around at the teens, Nino nodding in understanding.  

 “That’s the reason you changed the hiding form for your Miraculous Trixx?” Alya asked as she looked at the new Fox Miraculous around her neck, an orange pentagon with a tribal fox face painted on it.

 “Yes, but we have to talk about how you’ll handle the attacks in the future, while I would love to have all of you handle the Akuma your schooling might face troubles with that. 

And how to deal with the new Bee hero.” 

Fu said and Chloe looked at Alya and smirked.  

 “Say, you’re going to be staying at the hotel tonight right? Sleeping in one of the rooms that we set aside for the staff and their families when they can’t make it home right?” Chloe asked and Alya nodded.  

 “Yeah, my little sisters are sleeping over at the Zoo because dad will be there tonight looking over two of the animals, so the kids of the staff are all watching a movie and sleepover tonight.” Alya said and Chloe grinned.

 “Good, then tonight you are going to have supper with me, Sabrina and the Kwami in my condo, after which we’ll have an interview about how I feel about the new hero, who will then crash it and then you as the ‘New Bee’ will take a selfie with me, which I’ll then be able to post about passing on the Miraculous. And to make it better I’ll make it so it’ll auto-post on Monday at lunch, with a link to the exact page of the Ladyblog where you’ll post the interview.” Chloe said and Alya looked at her and smirked back. “But you’ll have to publish the interview on Monday; I’ll hide in my rooms over the weekend, watching some movies that will make me cry and have food brought up so if any of the bellboys who will gossip about it, then if our liar comments about it on Monday I’ll be able to explain that away and hopefully we’ll make that little liar scramble to explain how she evens know I was crying.”

 Alya looked at her and grinned, a crafty light coming from her eyes. “An interview with a hero, and then we might be able to catch Lila in a lie, I like it. No false Fox is gonna pull me around where she wants to anymore!”

 “My thought exactly!” Chloe said and smirked.  And with luck Hawkbutt will try and get me to go over to his side, but if I can learn anything about him…… I need to talk to Pollen about this, and Marinette.  Chloe thought and then Alya’s phone beeped.  

 Alya looked down at it and paled.  OH boy! Nora went and talked to somebody and heard about the Mass attack, at least she understands to talk to me about it first!  She thought as she tried to keep her smile up but she cringed, causing the others to look at her

 “What is it, Alya? What happened?” Marinette demanded and Alya sighed.

 “Yeah, is it bad, another attack……no all our phones would have gone off if that was the case.” Max said and Alya looked away.

 “I didn’t tell my parents and Nora about the attack in the locker room. Nora just texted me…… she says she’ll let me explain before she passes on what happens to our parents if I don’t convince her it’s the best to stay silent.” Alya said and Chloe giggled a little causing Alya to glare at her. 

“What?”

 “Sorry, sorry. I just remembered your sister is a kickboxer and then I thought about how we could throw her at Lila and then!” Chloe said as she started to laugh and the others started to chuckle, even Fu grinning a little.

 “Perhaps you should try and explain to us, gather your thought for your talk with your sister?” Fu suggested and Alya nodded and Trixx grinned as he finished his sandwich.

 “Okay, to start with I already told the family all about the Lila situation, just want to get that out there. I never mentioned the attack because, well I thought mom and dad might pull me from the school, but then I was talking about going homeschool like Marinette and Adrien and well…… I guess I didn’t want to worry them with everything that’s happening now.” Alya said and Nino nodded.

 “Yeah I get that. I talked to my Ma about doing that too, I mean with what happened it really doesn’t paint a good picture about the school. And that’s not even talking about what you told us Adrien.” Nino said and Alya winced. “You didn’t tell them about that either?”

 “I just told Nora, and we decided not to spring it on them……Dad’s busy at the Zoo, the Panther is pregnant and the elephant is sick and mom has that big conference to cook for at the hotel tomorrow……..” Alya said and Chloe nodded.

 “Makes sense, I mean mom fired the last head cook the last time this group came through and he was a minute off because of some problems with his kid.” Chloe said and Adrien winced, remembering how that had gone down.

 “I remember how you’re mom went off before she left…….. didn’t that guy only not make it there by a minute because of an accident outside the hotel he was almost in and had to talk to the police?” Adrien asked and Chloe nodded.

 “Yeah but he was late and almost in it because his kid was attacked at school and dad rehired him after she left, gave him a raise and everything.” Chloe said with a shudder. “Of course he did quiet about two months later and moved to London a year later, but well that’s how far he ran from her.”

 “And your father did nothing to stop this, nothing at all?” Fu asked and with how Sabrina looked away he knew that whatever Chloe said he would see just how far from being a good person the mayor was.

 “With him, it’s more the fact that if he can ignore it then he’s happy to do so, most of the time he throws money at me to keep me quiet.” Chloe said with a bitter edge to her voice and scoffed. “And I’m fifty percent sure that their marriage was forced by my grandfather on my mother’s side in exchange for backing in dad’s first campaign.” Chloe said bluntly and Fu looked at her in concern as the others absorbed what Chloe had said, a look of shock on Alya’s face and a look of worry on Marinette’s.

 “They might not have……” Wu trailed off at the look Chloe sent him and Adrien nodded with a somber mood.

 “They got married after he won, she only stayed here to give birth to me and went away as soon as she recovered and had a reason to fool the press, do the math.” Chloe said bluntly as Adrien and Sabrina put a hand on her shoulders as the others winced. For Marinette this knowledge made her remember how Chloe had first attacked her when she had complement Chloe’s mother so many years ago, for Max with how much love his mother showed him he couldn’t comprehend how Chloe’s parents could treat her like that and for Alya she remembered a few old classmates whose parents were abusive.

 Wu looked at her in shock and then seeing all the teens nod he face palmed and shook his head. This girl needed someone in her life like Pollen more than I thought, and with her friend and Barrk hunting down Hawkmoth, we might have a better chance of finding him than ever before. I could step forward, but no……..my mistakes won’t taint these young ones. I need to find homes for the others, I need to make sure that they all have someone to look after them, and I know who to give Hawkmoth’s and Mayura’s when they get them back.  He thought as he looked at the teens as they confronted Chloe.  

 “So that’s that. Anyhow I’m sure my dad will want to know where I was, so I’ll tell him I was with Sabrina and we were going to see a move.” Chloe said and Fi laughed lightly.

 “Good, now if you are all done I’ll show you the sewer entrance to this place, this way you can drop down if you need to talk to me and you need more Wayzz help in the future.” Fu said and looked at Sabrina and Max. “And there’s a space for you to make a portal so we can try and see if we can track him down and get her away fast.”

 “We’ll talk about our plans later, okay Sabrina?” Max asked and Sabrina nodded. “Oh, I just remembered, a while back Markov and I made this secure video chat program that uses the background codes of the internet to communicate, I’ll send you all a copy so we can talk easier.”

 “Good. But before you go, young Max would you mind looking at the network here, my manager said it was slowing down………whatever that means. I am of course willing to pay you an honest wage” Fu said and Max nodded.

 XXXXXXXX

 As Nino, Alya, Marinette, Chloe and Sabrina walked out onto the streets of Paris, Chloe looked at Marinette and smirked at her. “So got any plans for next week?”

 “No, not now why?” Marinette asked and Chloe shrugged.  

 “I was hoping that you and your renter would mind if I come over for some help with my geography? I’ll help with English in return.” 

Chloe offered and Marinette smiled.

 “I’m still looking into what program I’ll be doing, but I think we might be able to arrange something.” Marinate said and Chloe laughed a little as Alya looked around and saw a bus stop.  

 “I’m heading off, my sis wants to talk to me about this before her match tonight, and dad’s taking the twins to sleep at the Zoo with the other worker's kids, a movie night so the vets can watch the elephant tonight.” Alya said as she walked off.

 “And I need to pick up a mix board dudetess, talk to ya later and I want a copy of those programs Mari.” Nino said as he left in the opposite direction. A shadow caused them to look up to see Chat Noir fly overhead heading towards the Tower, and Marinette smiled.

 “And I still can’t believe you two didn’t know.” Chloe said and Marinette looked down and Sabrina giggled. “Good luck with those programs Bakery-Grill. Me and Sabrina have a talk to finish along the river.”

 “Why are you going there?” Marinette asked and Sabrina grinned.

 “Because of the Indie Bands who haven’t signed on to brands yet! There’s a stretch that bands love to sing at, and the acoustics make the area perfect for little concerts!” Sabina said and Chloe giggled.

 “It really lets us know what teen clubs to go to in the winter, they always put up who they have playing on social media.” Chloe said and Marinette nodded and walked off, Chloe waving at her. “I’ll talk to you over the weekend Marinette, I want to commotion something for when you have some free time!”

 Marinette looked at Chloe as she and Sabrina walked away, a strange look on her face.  I didn’t even think I would like Chloe enough to be sad that she’s walking away from me. I mean I always thought the girl had issues but that much, it didn't even seem possible. I guess that's the way the world turns sometimes.  She thought as she looked ahead.

 “I told you everything would work out Marinette!” Tikki said from Marinette’s bag. Marinette looked down at her bag and smiled. Tikki had told her when Lila had come back that things would get better and they did, it just took a while. With everything that happened she was sure that sooner or later everything would turn out okay, they knew Lila was a liar but she and Adrien had to talk about their relationship, and how to keep Hawkmoth from figuring out their identities but she was sure that things would be good.

 “Yeah, and it did. 

The team is stronger than ever, we’ve got a lead on tracking down Hawkmoth, and with everything I feel……..hope.” Marinette said and Tikki giggled and Marinette laughed and walked back towards her home, deciding to just move slowly to make sure she could absorb everything that happened to her today.

  XXXX

 Adrien slipped into the back doors to the Dunpain-Cheng and sighed as he closed the door.  That was incredible, Chloe is finally dropping her mask and letting the others in, and that will help her more than anything else! But I can’t believe that she followed them to help keep Lila from finding them, I knew was hiding a lot of stuff but this, I almost didn’t think she’d do that!  he thought as he walked up to the living room, never noticing that Sabine was waiting

 “Oh there you are Adrien.” Sabine’s voice caused him to turn and almost jump out of his skin.

 “Man miss Cheng, you sure walk quietly. I didn’t even notice you.” Adrien said as he held his chest as he felt Plagg giggle.

 “Oh I was just heading back to the bakery after putting some food into the slow cooker. How was your appointment?” Sabine asked and Adrien smiled bitterly.

 “I’ve lost a bit of weight and I’ve gained a bit of muscle, the doctor thinks that I need to eat more and that my dad might have underplayed my needs.” Adrien said and looked ashamed. “Anything for the brand of course.”

 “But you don’t believe that, do you?” Sabine asked supportively and Adrien nodded.

 “Dad is crazy overprotective and he did move away from me emotionally a bit……. But I can’t believe that he would do something that would hurt me.” Adrien said and Sabine smiled at him.  

 “I hope your right, for you at least.” Sabine said and Adrien smiled and moved up towards his guest room to stay out of sight and think. Sabine watched him go and sighed, hatting that his father was putting him in this position, hating that Gabriel used Lila to get her daughter expelled and she hoped that this didn’t break her kids.  After all those kids do for this city, I want to think that Gabriel is just neglectful, I mean my father fell apart when his brother died, mom says it took getting pregnant with my sister for him to snap out of it. And I can understand how hard it if you hide away from the world to feel safe, but he had a family to help him!  She thought as she walked into the bakery.  

 As Tom saw her he smiled. So far the ‘dinner rush’ hadn’t started yet, and lately the rush started in about an hour and was over well before it was time for their own supper but working with his wife always made it easier for work.

 “Hello Love, did our guest make it back in one piece?” Tom asked and Sabine nodded and Tome sighed.

 “So how’s the batch for the dinner rush coming along?” Sabine asked and Tom grinned.  

 “It’s going to be ready on time, but we need to talk about what we’ll do with the leftovers from now on.” Tom said and Sabine looked at him before ahhing as she understood what he meant.  

 “Yes, I know what you mean. Maybe we might have to send Marinette to the shelters or ask them to come by more often than the weekend.” Sabine said and Tom nodded.  

 When Marinette had started at the school she had the idea to bring the leftovers for free advertising by giving them to the school for the students and faculty to have. It had worked but with the school probably closing down they needed a new way to get rid of the leftovers and the second way that they

 “It was a good deal, we give some of our old bread to the school for their meals and we get free advertisement, but I guess the Owl doesn’t care about that!” Tom said with a scowl and Sabine glared at the school and Tom felt his hands clench as he remembered everything the principal didn’t do for their daughter and what he did. 

“In the last few days, I’ve wanted to put my hand around that man’s throat and so help me!”

 “Calm down dear, I know how you feel but we need to help him deal with it, we just have to help them with all the burdens their under. And with Marinette, we can’t let that bastard win, either of them!” Sabine said sharply and Tom sighed and tried to center himself as his mother taught him long ago. He nodded and looked at the store as the doors opened and slipped back into the kitchen as Sabine walked towards the counter and smiled at the customer as he came towards her.

 XXXX

 Alya looked around the park and tried and failed to get herself under control and keep calm, Trixx was riding in her pocket and she felt the warmth from her and smiled, part of her being jealous that she had Tikki helping for so long, wondering how much the little Kwami had helped her friend by just being there.  

 “Don’t worry Alya, no matter what happens your sister will help you, just be calm and explain your reasoning.” Trixx said and Alya smiled and rubbed Trix’s head and sighed.

 “Yeah, sis is great. A little overprotective but I can’t deny that she’s helped me a lot over the years.” Alya said softly and Trixx laughed and looked up at her.  

 “Then just be calm and explain why you didn’t say anything calmly, if she’s like your saying then all you need to do.” Trixx said and smiled up at Alya.  My kit is gonna handle this fine, 

 “I guess yeah, I can do this.” Alya said and looked around for Nora before a million problems began moving through her mind as she started to spiral like Marinette.  Oh this is terrible, I mean I…….this is going to be bad, sis is going to tell the rents, they’re going to come back and mom will be fired, dad will be discredit when the panther dies and he could have saved it, he’ll lose his job and we’ll be homeless in a week!  She thought as she walked through the park until she found her sister.

 “Hey sis, there you are!” Nora called out and Alya looked up and saw Nora.

 “Please don’t tell them sis, please.” Alya said miserably and Nora sighed and just looked at Alya.

 “I gotta baby sis, I mean it was another mass attack! I mean you were able to hide last time with string bean but this time you were in ground zero!” Nora said and Alya nodded as she sighed.

 “But nothing happened! The attack failed, it was more of a scare tactic than anything else!” Alya argued and looked at Nora who only shook her head.  

 “Sis, mom was worried after the last time the scum did it for two weeks, she jumped each time the alert went out! We have to tell them about it!” Nora said.  Why is she fighting me on this, I mean she has to know how mom and dad are, but what’s she thinking acting like this?!  Nora thought and looked at her sister. “ I have to do this sis, you know how mom and pops will react if they learn from anyone but us!”

 “But with everything that’s happening now!” Alya said before she clapped her hands over her mouth and Nora looked at her sister and sighed and shook her head.

 “It’s because of what they have on their plate, isn’t it sis?” Nora asked and Alya nodded.  

 “Oh Alya.” Nora said and shook her head. Her sister was a great kid, but she always put more on her to help the family than was healthy for her.  

 “Yeah I know, but I did what I think was right for the family.” Alya said and Nora looked at her and sighed

 “Kid, you know how to give your sister problems.” Nora said.  On one hand, I should tell the rents right away, but on the other hand I can understand why my sister does what she does, most of the time.  Nora thought as she looked at her sister.

 “Sis, there was a mass attack again, there going to find out sooner or later even if it fizzled out. But I get it that you don’t want their jobs to be in danger…….so I won’t tell them about it, but after dinner when dad’s back tomorrow the three of us will sit down and talk to him about it.” Nora said and Alya hugged her sister who laughed a little and smiled down at her. “Hey sis, I just doing what you were, it’s something to talk about sure but we can throw it on the back burner until this is done okay? But once dad is back we’re talking all about it.”

 “Thanks Nora, I……sorry.” Alya said and Nora grinned at her sister.  

 “Hey you choose the harder option, and I’m proud of you for doing that, even though I don’t like the fact you had to do it.” Nora said and sighed before she reached over and grabbed Alya around her shoulders, drawing her closer. “But it shows maturity, but we need to talk about that kid!”

 “Okay, okay!” Alya laughed and Nora laughed with her. As they walked through the park Nora and Alya just made small talk with each other; letting the stress of their lives die away from their minds as they just bonded as sisters. As they were turning the corner Alya looked ahead and pulled Nora to the side, hiding her from view behind a statue before she put a hand on Nora’s mouth. As Nora looked at her sister in confusion she saw a look of anger and hatred and followed her eyes to a teen girl with long, hip-length chestnut brown hair with bangs similar to a horse mane in a vermilion jacket over a dark gray strapless jumpsuit that has tiny white spots and wears light gray tights and brown ankle-length high heel boots.

 “Lila!” Alya growled as she saw the girl walk towards an empty area of the park where the fence separated the park from the street. After a few moments, Alya moved her hand away and looked at where Lila had gone.  

 “I’m betting that was the liar who snowed you little sis?” Nora asked and Alya nodded.    

 “That’s her.” Alya said softly and looked at where Lila was going and looked at Nora.  

 “Let’s follow her.” 

Nora said and Alya grinned and hugged her sister, remember where she had gotten her sense of justice. As they dashed after Lila, they saw her sit down at a bench.  

 “What’s she doing?” 

Nora muttered and Alya shrugged as she brought up her phone and started to record what Lila was doing.  I don’t like this, what wrong? Something about this is making my teeth chatter and something is setting me on edge. 

Nora thought and looked at Lila as she sat there doing nothing. After a few minutes Nora frowned and looked at Alya. “I’ll walk over, I mean I can say you described her and I’ll trash talk Marinette with my phone recording, see if she bites.”

 “Might not be a good idea sister, but……wait what?” Alya breathed as a limo drove up and stopped behind the bench and Lila. As they watched the window on the passenger side behind the cab dropped down to reveal Gabriel Agreste who looked ahead.  

 “You’ve been quite Gabriel, how’s Adrien? After the incident at the photoshoot I would have thought you might have done something beyond keeping him from school, I told you that those peasants were a bad influence. ” Lila’s voice carried to them and Nora’s mouth dry as she heard a growl from Alya. 

 “He’s not at home, he ran away.” Gabriel said and looked ahead and didn’t react when Lila turned her head to gape at him. 

“Has he contacted you at all?”  

 “No, I haven’t seen him at all and he hasn’t called me. He hasn’t made any announcements on his social media accounts has he?” Lila asked and Gabriel scowled.

 “No, he’s completely dark. I don’t have to tell you how bad this could be for both of us. If he tells anyone about what you said how you were given a modeling contract because of how you got Miss Dupain-Cheng expelled, though why you even think that I can’t understand at all! When we came to this agreement I thought I was very clear, that all I wanted from you was a complete understanding of how Adrien conducted himself in class and how people interacted with him, and if anyone was trying to take advantage of him!” 

Gabriel said with a growl and Lila looked back into the park to keep Gabriel from seeing her face and the scowl she had.

 “Dupain-Cheng is the most useless girl in the school. A terrible student, a trash fashion designer and she clings to Adrien in a completely inamorata manner!” Lila said and it was all Alya could do to keep from screaming at her for the lies that pass from Lila's lips.

 “Her talent won a competition of mine in the past, do not tell me lies. I am beginning to think that I should tell your mother about your travels.” Gabriel said and Lila kept looking into the park and even Nora could tell that this threat worked on her.

 “My mother is so busy sir, please don’t bother her!” Lila said and Nora frowned as she saw Lila’s eyes were full of rage.  

 “Don’t drag my brand down young lady, I don’t know why you went so beyond what I expected from you, but I will not have my family name or my son around people who are so low class.” Gabriel said and Alya bit her lips as Lila paled in fear.

 “Don’t worry sir, I won’t. And after what I did there’s no way for her to get back into school, I was able to check the camera’s, the one in the courtyard doesn’t even have power running to it!” Lila said and Nora gasped softly, Lila looked around the park and frowned.  

 “What is it?” Gabriel asked and Lila shook her head.

 “I thought I heard something, it must be some brat playing by the trees nearby.” Lila said and Gabriel stayed silent. “And sir, about the shoot?”

 “What about it?” Gabriel asked and Lila swallowed.  

 “Well it was canceled but if there’s a chance for me to have a solo shoot without Adrien sir?” Lila asked and Gabriel looked ahead and the limo turned back on.

 “I’ll be in touch with you.” Gabriel said as his window raised and he drove off. A few moments after he had driven out of sight Lila started to grit her teeth and screamed to the wind.

 “That idiot! Why did that idiota Adrien have to develop a backbone after everything that’s happened!? He’s nothing but a pretty face, at least until I start to teach him how to rule over people! He’s not like the others, with time I could have shown him the right way to live! But instead, he wants to be one of those sheep like that whole class and the school, they are all completely idiotic fools, I was able to use momentum to get Dupain-Cheng expelled, she doesn’t have a leg to stand on especially with the principal, I told him exactly what he wanted to hear to get him to like me just like all the other fools in that school!” Lila spat and Alya grabbed Nora and pulled her down before she could confront Lila. As the Italian liar walked away Alya kept Nora down until Lila had been gone for ten minutes and Alya turned her phone off.  

 “I didn’t expect that.” Alya said as she looked at her phone and felt Trixx press against her.  But this might help Marinette get and us put Lila away for life! And I better call Max about the…….wait. Mari was sent a file that showed what Lila did, but then does that mean what? Alya thought as she tried to figure out what Lila had thought as she did

 “What the heck was that about girl!? That was Sunshine’s old man, what’s that mean! And the Cameras don’t work at your school!?” Nora demanded and Alya looked away.  

 “Adrien said that Lila said his father told him to get Marinette expelled, and he and Marinette aren’t going back to the school after everything. And that one camera might not work but others do, I’ve seen proof.” 

Alya said and Nora frowned, wondering what Alya was hiding.

 “The old man said Adrien ran away, so where is he?!” Nora asked and Alya looked away.  

 “I can’t say Nora, I don’t know where he’s staying but I saw him at Marinette’s place.” Alya admitted and Nora whistled.  

 “Woah, Sunshine moves fast.” Nora said and Alya looked at her before blushing as she realized what her sister meant.

 “Not like that! He went there to apologize for some advice he gave my girl when he didn’t know everything about the topic, and then he stayed there after he served his father some papers!” Alya said dismissively and Nora grunted.  And then when we talked again Max spilled the beans and showed how logic could get around the glamor. And those two have to have a talk about their feelings for each other. What I wouldn’t do to learn what they decided in the end!  She thought and looked at Nora. “But back on topic, you’re staying at the apartment all alone tonight right?”

 “No, at the zoo. I’m the second chaperon.” Nora said and Alya nodded. “So you’re not at home tonight either sis?”

 “No. I’m staying at the hotel in the servant’s quarters. Mom wants to keep an eye on me I guess.” Alya said and Nora grunted and looked at her.  

 “I promise sis, I won’t say anything to dad but you will say something when we’re all home okay?” 

Nora said and Alya hugged her sister goodbye.

 “Say hi to the twin terrors sis, good luck with them and the rest of the gremlins.” Alya said and walked off, looking down at her phone as she moved.  The way that Gabriel talked to Lile-la, he didn’t want Marinette expelled at all. It doesn’t absolve Gabriel from spying on Adrien, but a father trying to look after a son if the son had to fight to go to school….. Alya thought before sighing and shaking her head before she walked towards the hotel, wondering how she could tell the others that she had proof that Gabriel used Lila to spy on Adrien

 XXXXXXX

 Chloe looked around her room and smiled as she put away her tablet and watched as Pollen flew around the room, smiling at her as she sat on her bed.

 “Everything is done Chloe, you don’t have any of those cameras around here and all we have to do is wait for Trixx’s kit and her to come over here.” Pollen said and she looked at Chloe who frowned and looked around her room. “What is it?”

 “I want to make you a little bed, but I don’t know where to put it so my parents won’t have somebody find it.” Chloe said and Pollen grinned and nuzzled Chloe’s cheek as she buzzed in happiness.

 “Thanks Chloe!” Pollen said and Chloe looked down at her with a slight scowl.

 “You deserve to at least have a bed at least!” Chloe said and Pollen giggled and smiled.

 “Some people wouldn’t.” Pollen said and beamed as Chloe looked away.  I knew it was fate that we found each other Chloe, I knew it! I’m just happy that Fu let me stay with you.  She thought before Chloe looked down at the Kwami.  

 “I just realized something; I listen to relaxing music, soft and simple to help me sleep. That won’t be a problem with you, will it?” Chloe asked and Pollen looked back.

 “Vocal or instruments?” Pollen asked with a smile and Chloe looked away.

 “Instruments and the sounds of rain.” Chloe answered and Pollen grinned.  

 “That sounds wonderful; Biao and I loved the sound of the rain when we were partners!” Pollen said and A knocking at the door caused Pollen to jet and hide under the bed as Chloe walked towards it, opening it to reveal Sabrina who smiled at her as she came in. As soon as Chloe closed the door Barkk flew out from Sabrina’s purse. As Pollen came out of hiding Chloe smiled as Sabrina sat down and put her purse on the table, a grin on her face.   

 “Well, the plan will work. 

Pollen checked everything and as far as she can see there’s nothing that records what happens here, so we’re safe and secured. And all those times I was sure he was spying on me.” Chloe said and Sabrina giggled and hid a smile. After a few moments of silence, Chloe looked at Sabrina and just crossed her arms and as she looked at her friend.

 “What?” Chloe asked as she looked at Sabrina who grinned back at her.

 “I’m just happy that you’ve finally gotten around to opening up to more people besides me and Adrien! And you’re ship is finally sailing!” Sabrina said and Chloe looked away and blushed. Ever since she had learned that Marinette had a spine that the latter wasn’t afraid to use against Chloe, and seeing how the teen felt about her brother Adrien, she had hoped the two of them would stop dancing around them, something a lot of students at school wanted too and because then they would win……Chloe went still as a grin suddenly grew on her face, one that wouldn’t be out of place on her mother.  

 Sabrina looked at Chloe’s expression and paled in fear, the Kwami huddled together as a strange feeling that they couldn’t identify. “Chloe…….what is it?”

 “Oh I just thought about the pot for the bet. When did you give your date for when they would go on their first date?” Chloe asked and Sabrina looked at her before giggling.

 “And the two of us haven’t placed a bet yet and with your insider knowledge……. I like it.” Sabrina said and looked up at the ceiling.   

 “And the pot is big enough even if we split it four ways for us each to get a nice chunk of change.

 “Four ways? Oh our partners!” Sabrina said and Barkk started to smile as Pollen buzzed. Sabrina looked at Chloe who blushed and looked away as she realized just how that sounded.

 “Well they're here and will be with us now aren’t they?” Chloe said as she hid a blush.  

 “Yes they are.” Sabrina said and smiled at her friend. Sabrina’s dad used to have the hotel as his beet, back during the time after her mother had died so Sabrina had stayed at the hotel and gotten to know Chloe and Adrien then, and even now she helped Chloe out with her plans because she knew what caused Chloe to do them.  

 But no matter how long Sabrina had known Chloe, she had always been hard and closed off from others beyond her and Adrien, having a hard time letting others in. But learning that they had Kwami partners too, that let her drop a few of her shields. She still had a lot of baggage that held her back, but she would deal with it and maybe this would help her move on and grow, but Sabrina was worried about what Lila would think if Chloe acted differently.

 At this thought Sabrina went still and winced and looked at Chloe who looked back at her with a calm look that turned into a sigh. “You always could read me Sabrina, what gave me away?”

 The Kwami looked at each other, both of them not understanding what Chloe meant but Pollen feeling a strange feeling.

 “At least tell them all first!” Sabrina exclaimed and Chloe nodded with a hard look

 “Yeah, that is the plan for this weekend, before I watch a few of those movies I love to cry too.” Chloe admitted and Sabrina nodded.

 A knocking from the door caused Sabrina to turn and Chloe shook her head and walked over herself and opened, Alya walked in pushing a cart with food, and Chloe smiled as she smelled Pizza under one of the domes. Chloe was about to say hi when she saw the look in Alya’s eyes.  

 Chloe gestured to Sabrina who turned on the music and as Chloe looked outside and not seeing anyone stepped back inside as Alya sat down and Trixx came out and joined the other kwami. 

 “Spill it reporter, what happened now?” Chloe asked and Alya looked at them.

 “We saw and heard the false Fox and Adrien’s father talk in the park.” Trixx said and Chloe looked at the Kwami and

 “He didn’t tell Lila to get Marinette expelled.” Alya bit out and Chloe’s head snapped up and looked at her.

 “What.” Chloe said flatly and Alya paled at the way Chloe was looking at her.

 “He said he just wanted a completely independent view about how Sunshine’s acting in school, how people interact with him!” Alya said as she held up her phone.

 “That is so like Uncle Gabriel. So Lila was the brain behind everything?” Chloe asked in wonder.  Hu, I didn’t think the little parasite was that smart, I mean I always saw her as an idiot but what happened to Marinette…….no I don’t believe it.  

Chloe thought as Trixx started to growl.

 “Yeah, that false fox is a total liar! After what Tikki and Plagg said she was like as Volpina, I didn’t know why I expected something different from her!” Trixx said as the others tried to calm her down.

 “Wait…… She was Volpina!? Oh god!” Sabrina said as she dropped to the floor, her eyes shrank to pinpoints as Chloe dashed to her.

 “Brina? Sabrina are you okay!?” Chloe asked as she started to worry

 “She’s working with Hawkmoth.” Sabrina whispered in horror. Alya gasped as Chloe looked at her friend and tried to follow her logic before she realized what Sabrina said and started to growl.

 As Chloe started to growl Alya went pale in fear as she realized if Sabrina was right then she had let a terrorist watch her sisters! She was already feeling down about Lila watching them before, but if this was true then she might have put them in real danger if Lila ever figured out she was Rena Rouge.

 “What do you mean!? She’s slime but how do you get from that that she's working for a terrorist? How do you get what her Akuma was to that!?” Alya demanded and Sabrina swallowed and looked at them

 “Think about it! He can’t make those scarlet akumas on a whim! 

He has to prepare before he does it! how did he know those events would have happened if Lila didn’t tell him!” Sabrina said and Alya went still as Chloe eyes became pinpoints as she realized that yes, what Sabrina said made sense and if she was right, then they were in a lot more trouble than they thought they were.

 “That little idiot! 

When I get my hands on her throat I’ll kill her! I don’t care that……..” Chloe began before she went still and swallowed and looked at the others, a million thoughts going through her head, none of them good.    

 “Chloe, what is it?” Sabrina asked and Chloe looked at them and glared into space.

 “We only have her word that her mother is a diplomat and after the first super-villain attack anywhere with embassies, all high-level policymakers leave the city, especially mind-benders like Hawkmoth, that’s the rule most countries follow. So why would a diplomat high enough to give immunity to family members go to a city under attack?” Chloe said and Alya’s mouth dropped open, about to say why would Lila lie about that when she realized how many lies the girl had told everyone.

 “Hell. She probably said her mother was a diplomat just so that people wouldn’t bother her about the lies Lila tells! And how could any diplomat believed whatever lie let Lila skip months of school?! We don’t know what could happen when we bust her!” 

Chloe said and Alya scowled and Sabrina went over a few things that she had learned from her father and she agreed with her friend, this was shaping up to be a lot harder than she thought it would be. 

 A rumbling caused them to look at Sabrina as she blushed and looked away, both Alya and Chloe looking at her before they started to snicker before turning towards the food Alya had brought and grinned at each other, promising to talk to the others once they were done with their meal.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Wicked Game

Another round of the 5sos fic writing collab brought to you by @maluminspace​ and @h0tsos​. There are so many amazing writers involved and I highly recommend checking out the event master list linked below. Thank you to the Sagittarius sorceress  @sexgodashton​ for being very caring, patient, and kind while helping me tame this monster.  Massive shout out to @ghostofmashton​ for the photo edits, especially Ashton’s eye. that’s my favorite. You’re a rock star. Texas girls forever, love you to bits!

Event Master List

Prompt: Chef AU with Cashton

Dialogue Prompt: “Kissing you is all I’ve thought about since the moment we met” First person to spot it in the fic and send me a screenshot gets a personalized blurb request.

Word Count: 20K+ Team Long Winded Bitch strikes again, this will be posted in multiple parts over the next couple of days. This first part is about 5K

Rating: 18+ Slash fic Strong language, alcohol and drug use, and a misogynistic and racist comment. Sexual scenes including masturbation, toys, voyeurism, oral, and anal sex.

Summary: Ashton is ready to move on with his life after his painful divorce from Luke and the demise of the restaurant they’d built together. With the help of his protegee and sous chef Hima Singh, Ashton is ready to take on opening weekend of his new restaurant Anne-Marie’s. Calum is a reporter filling in on an assignment and is surprised when his past comes back to haunt him. Hima arranges an interview that takes an unexpected turn between the two men.

Part 1

"Great job, guys, we couldn't have had a better opening weekend. Thank you so much for making it happen," Ashton told the two staff members in the kitchen who'd closed as he unlocked the back door.

"No problem boss, glad to be here. We made money this weekend. See ya tomorrow," DeSean told him as he left.

Ashton locked the door behind them and walked out into the empty dining room, his steel-toed boots echoing heavily on the distressed blonde faux hardwood floors. He stopped to adjust a few tables, double-checking sightlines and looking over the layout of the tables. The upside-down chair legs cast long shadows in the soft pink neon glow. 

He looked up at the sign above the bar that read "Anne-Marie's." He smiled, not caring if anyone thought it was cheesy to name his restaurant after his mother.  His mom had always been his lucky star, and he couldn't have gotten through the last couple of years without her. 

"You look so serious,' a voice behind him startled him out of his thoughts.

"What the fuck Hima," Ashton yelped, clutching his chest dramatically. "I thought you were still in the kitchen." 

"The guys didn't leave me anything to do so I decided to change and have a drink with you before my brother gets here," she tossed her bag and chef's coat onto a stool grinning at Ashton. She hopped up to sit on the bar before swinging her legs around as she pushed off. Landing without a wobble she reached under the bar and grabbed a bottle of black label Bushmill's Irish Whiskey and two short glasses. 

"Straight for the good stuff, I like the way you think," Ashton smirked, taking a seat at the bar. 

"To simply mark the occasion, of course" she poured them each a shot before adding a splash of water.  She raised her glass, "Cheers to you, Boss, and to Anne-Marie's." 

They clinked glasses. "Couldn't have done it without you," he replied before taking a sip.

"Awwwwww thanks Ashtton, " she grinned at him. "Damn that's good, the whiskey makes me forgive the Irish for how dreadful Guinness is. Did you see Kevin Mackie snuck in last night? I expect a write up in the Metro on Tuesday and I know you saw Patricia Bennett," she rolled her eyes at the name.

"She makes herself hard to miss," he snorted. "I missed Mackie though. Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Because we were busy and I didn't have time for you to get all giggly and nervous. He got the crab puffs and the Mac and Brie and inhaled them. You were right about the nutmeg; I thought he was going to lick the plate."  She opened two bottles of beer before hopping back over the bar and taking a seat next to Ashton. 

"How did this weekend compare to the opening of ‘Lune Rouge’? Was it as good as the first time?" Hima finished her whiskey before shaking a pack of Camel Crush cigarettes out of her bag. 

"If you get ashes on the bar Paloma will flip her shit," Ashton warned. 

"I'm not afraid of her," Hima snipped, but she made sure to be careful. No sense in antagonizing their temperamental main bartender. 

"This opening was definitely smoother than the first one. We didn't know what the hell we were doing. The first night we ran out of duck fat and gorgonzola before the dinner rush was over. My sous chef's sister had to run to Whole Foods for emergency supplies. We got lucky the press ignored us for a couple weeks until we got a little buzz going. This time I knew what to expect but there was also more pressure," he paused, taking a pull on the bottle of beer. "This time I  expected to succeed right out of the gate." 

"You succeeded there," Hima stubbed her cigarette out in her empty glass. "I really need to quit." 

"You could get a puff bar and start vaping," he teased.

"I'm not a fucking junior varsity cheerleader. I can take my cancer like a big girl." She checked her phone. "Ugh it's almost nine, and it's gonna take me at least thirty minutes to get home. You're closing tomorrow with me right?" 

"Yeah, I'll be in around 11 all this week. Rafi is handling brunch with Gloria but I want to be here," Ashton double-checked his phone. "Tuesday I have that interview with Men's Life and they just emailed me." 

Hima saw his nose scrunch up as he read.  "What's wrong?" 

"I thought they were sending Taj, but instead of rescheduling the interview, they're sending Calum Hood," Ashton sneered. 

"Chill dude, it's not that bad," Hima was confused by the venom in his voice. "Yeah he's a bit of a goof, but he's hot and not a pretentious dickhead. They could've sent Felipe." 

"True, true," he grumbled as he saw a black Honda pull up outside. "Kabir is here." 

"Shit, ok see you tomorrow, Boss," she grabbed her stuff, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran out the door, locking it behind her. 

Ashton walked through once again. He made sure the lights were off in the employee lounge. Since many of his staff members used public transport or worked two jobs, Rafi had convinced Ashton to provide his staff with a decent place to take a break and get ready before or after work.  He built a small shower stall, lockers, and provided clean towels, and as his new kitchen manager, Rafi took responsibility for maintaining the space. Ashton took a last look at the bar, double-checking for any stray ashes Hima might have missed before setting the alarm, locking up, and heading home. 

Calum opened the email from his editor and swore loud enough to wake the scruffy brown terrier mix snoozing at his feet.

Hey Cal,

Sorry it's such short notice but Taj's mom had an emergency and I need you to cover for him. He's interviewing Ashton Irwin, remember him? He had the Lune Rouge a few years ago. Well, he's got a new place, diverse staff and we're doing a feature. Maybe even the cover if he's really pretty. Tuesday at 2 pm I'll send you the address and details after I talk to Taj. Oh, and my friend Nick is coming into town and I told him you'd show him around. It's been a while since you had a date but you'll like him. He's kinda short, but he's got big muscles, huge dick, perfect credit. You could do a lot worse.

Call me tomorrow

Sham

This isn't good, this isn't good. Calum's mind was racing. He rubbed his temples trying to think. Taj was notoriously reliable and responsible, so if he was taking off on short notice, it must be serious. It was just his bad luck it was Ashton Irwin. 

He usually covered travel and sports for Men's Life while Taj handled food and fashion. Calum didn't mind taking back food and dining for the time being. He'd started in that industry, working as a line cook while he went to school for journalism. He'd quit both when a flirty, older professor recommended him for an internship at California Culture and he managed to land a real job. Professor Davis had been highly disappointed to lose him as a student and catch him making out with her son who went to the same college. He'd found a tiny shitty apartment, spent his life on the road for work, and sent every penny he didn't need to live on to his family. He didn't even date for the longest time until he met a handsome blonde with sharp features and a sharper tongue.

He couldn't remember if it was four years ago or five, but he clearly recalled his review of Lune Rouge had not been nice. Calum was in a toxic relationship with the restaurant's sous chef at the time. He'd let his personal life spill over into his work for the first and only time. It wasn't something Calum was proud of and while he felt he owed Ashton an apology, the right time and place hadn't presented itself yet. He'd run into Ashton twice since then. The first time he was with his husband, and Calum wasn't about to humble himself in front of Luke. The second encounter came not long after their marriage broke up. Calum was dating a photographer at the time, when Ashton came to the photographer’s art show. They were briefly introduced but Ashton's chilly demeanor discouraged any further conversation, so Calum avoided him the rest of the evening. He remembered being unable to stop staring at the handsome chef with the sad eyes. He'd always hoped they'd bump into each other under better circumstances. I guess an interview will have to do.

********

Ashton sat out on his condo balcony overlooking Echo Park, taking in the night air and enjoying a second bottle of IPA. Hima was right, the opening had been a smash. Anne-Marie's had the best staff he'd ever had the pleasure of working with, and aside from a small mix up between gruyere and Havarti cheese, the opening had been smooth. The alcohol hummed in his veins as he allowed his mind to wander back five years. 

Lune Rouge's opening had been a chaotic mess of brilliance, balls, and blind luck. He was a year out of culinary school, newly married, and ecstatically in love with his husband. Luke was a trust fund baby; his dad ran a major studio. He put up the funding for their restaurant which procured a prime spot in trendy West Hollywood. Ashton had the idea of taking traditional French cuisine and turning it into "pub grub." Luke created a kitschy tacky cool interior with the ambiance of fairy light curtains, vintage 90's movie posters, an eye-popping pink and aqua come scheme.  Featuring a bartender who doubled as a DJ, the restaurant became an immediate hot spot.  

 The culinary press treated them like rock stars and it went to their head.  Ashton was portrayed as the mysterious boy genius, boisterous and foul-mouthed, he ran the back of the house, oversaw the business and created the menu. Luke, who's blonde-haired blue-eyed good looks were regularly described as "angelic", was the frontman, often schmoozing in the dining room, taking song requests, or slinging drinks behind the bar. They worked so well together until they didn't. 

Ashton shook his head, not allowing himself to linger on negative thoughts, not when he'd fought to regain balance. He'd spent the last year freeing himself from the wreckage of his partnership with Luke. Still, tonight after the opening, alone and overlooking the city lights, his mind kept going back to the exhilaration of that first opening night. After they stayed late with the crew for a drink to celebrate, Luke's hand wandered up Ashton's thigh causing him to almost choke on his tequila. Soon Luke started whining about all the paperwork he had to do before they could go home. The crew quickly bagged it out of there, not wanting to get roped into more work. 

Ashton swallowed at the memory before glancing around at the other balconies. It was late enough most of his neighbors should be asleep. Already hard, he reached down and squeezed his bulge through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. 

After letting everyone else out of Lune Rouge that first night he'd been puzzled to find Luke no longer at the bar. He heard noises coming from the office. When he opened the door, he found his husband, shirtless, and waiting for him. 

Ashton slid his hand into his pants swiping his thumb across the leaking tip. He heard a sliding glass door open and froze in place until he realized it was his neighbor below him chatting on the phone. He stroked himself and let his mind wander back to Luke. It had been too long since Ashton got laid, and Luke was still the best sex he'd ever had. He shuddered and bit his lip thinking about the way Luke grinned at him as he opened the office door. Before Ashton could say a word, Luke was sinking to his knees. A bit awkward given his long legs, but it didn't take long before he was letting Ashton fuck his throat. The thought of those blue eyes looking up at him as Ash's hands tangled in those blonde curls caused a moan to slip out, and his neighbor stopped talking at the sound. 

"I think somebody is having sex," he heard her whisper. He almost laughed. 

His dick was twitching flat against his stomach as he ducked back inside his bedroom, kicked off his pants, and grabbed a small tube of lube. Ashton shut off the light and stepped back outside. 

The breeze cooled his fevered skin as he stood there looking out at the city and stroking his dick. The idea that he could possibly be seen turned him on almost as much as his trip down memory lane.  He swallowed another moan thinking about how Luke's lips felt against his, their tongues tangled until he pulled back looking at Ashton with mischief and love before giving him a wink and turning around. 

Ashton's breath caught in his throat as he worked his cock thinking about it. The red and white striped pants his husband pranced around in that night had been blissful torment working him up until the moment he slid those pants down and bent over the desk.

"Come take what's yours, my love, I've been wanting you all night," he cooed, wiggling his hips. 

Luke was a whiny boy when he was getting pounded, and the memory sent Ashton closer to the edge. He felt his knees tremble as he increased his speed, the city lights becoming starbursts in his vision as he edged himself closer. At the moment of release, he swore he could feel Luke pushing back against him taking him in as deep as he could go. 

When Ashton opened his eyes, he found himself sweaty and streaked with his own seed. He was amazed he'd managed to stay quiet, but his neighbor was chatting away obliviously. He went back inside, cracked another beer, and took it with him into the shower, trying to focus on his day tomorrow.

 It was after midnight by the time he went to bed. His body was exhausted but the adrenaline from the opening weekend hadn't quite worn off. He found himself still restless and playing on his phone. After scrolling through Instagram, he found himself looking at the page belonging to the Galway Grill-- Ashton cringed at the name-- an Irish pub and microbrewery very recently opened by Luke and his boyfriend Finn. 

Ashton simmered with resentment perusing the menu; they'd recycled at least half of the Lune Rouge recipes, his creations. He'd heard they'd rushed their opening to launch the week before Anne-Marie's, and even with Daddy's deep pockets the decor looked slapped together, all flash no class. He came to a picture of the happy couple and couldn't help but notice how thin and tired Luke looked despite his huge smile. He felt a twinge of concern for his ex before pushing his phone away in disgust. Rolling out of bed, he headed to the bathroom and fished an orange prescription bottle out of the cabinet. He broke a valium in half and swallowed the smaller piece with a gulp of water straight from the faucet. He scrolled through different sounds on his phone before settling on crashing waves. He spent the next ten minutes stretching and practicing deep breathing to push out any lingering negativity and troubling thoughts. It was too late to drag up the past and there was nothing to be gained. Ashton crawled back under the duvet and sank into a deep sleep dreaming of blue eyes.

*********

Hima rolled into work a little after one, pleased to see a decent lunch crowd and multiple delivery orders going out. She ordered a chicken mojito wrap for her lunch and headed back to the office to find Ashton. She found him in his chair with his laptop open on his desk, a notebook in his lap while scrolling through his phone. 

"So what's the Monday morning report, Boss?" She asked, taking a seat across from him. 

Ashton was beaming as he spun the laptop around to show her. "We made 30% over our projected sales. We came in right at payroll, actually a little under if you can believe that." 

"I've checked the reservation book," she responded, flashing her phone. "We're booked solid for dinner Friday and Saturday and will call is 3 pm-7 pm. We're probably going to have to do that all week." 

"Whatever you need. This weekend is going to be bonkers. If you have any suggestions, I'd like to do something for the staff. That reminds me, I've got to talk to Maisie." He scribbled down a quick note.

"She's already on it," Hima laughed. "The servers who struggled are coming in for extra training with her and Dakota. I have no doubt she'll straighten them up or ship them out."  

Ashton nodded as Daniel knocked on the office door to bring their lunch. 

"How's it going out there? Let us know if you need anything," Ashton told him.

"We've got this, Boss, enjoy your lunch," Daniel closed the door behind him.

"He's Rafi's brother?" Hima asked before taking a big bite. 

"Cousin, Gloria is his sister," Ashton replied tucking into his roasted corn and quinoa salad with queso fresco. 

"Are you ready for this interview tomorrow? You look tired," Hima looked concerned. 

"I am tired," he shrugged. "I just wanna get this over with. I'm thrilled we're doing so well, but that's not what the press wants to talk about." 

"Don't think about it like that. Anne-Marie's will stand on her own. You've just gotta get through this week. I know it's a lot," her words were half-muffled by a napkin.

"Tomorrow is the worst of it. Mackie called and is available Tuesday at one or Thursday for dinner around four. Since he's already been here for dinner, I thought I'd let Rafi wow him this time," he told her.

"Good idea, try to keep it short because if he drinks he gets super chatty. He gave a lecture at school and came to the bar afterward; he would not shut up," she warned.

"Chatty bastard, got it," he replied and they both laughed. 

Anne-Marie's was his restaurant, but he couldn't have done it without Hima.  She was fresh out of culinary school working as a line cook at the Hilton when he'd discovered her a little over a year ago. Ashton only lasted four months before chafing under the corporate yoke and deciding to strike out on his own. She'd been the first person he'd hired for the restaurant, guaranteeing her first year's salary out of his own pocket. Rafi and DeSean were excellent managers for the kitchen, but Hima was a coach: she understood the business as a whole. He'd let her handle most of the press and promotion, and she'd scored two big interviews.

Gourmet Table had interviewed him last Thursday The piece wouldn't be that in-depth, but they'd spent three hours photographing food. He expected the Men's Life article to focus more on him and his personal life. Calum Hood was known for his sharp pen and take-no-prisoners style.  He'd given Lune Rouge two stars and a biting review during a brief stint at California Culture before he'd become known. It was five years ago, but Ashton still had the clipping somewhere. Calum had branded Lune's food as tasty and imaginative but thought the presentation was lacking in creativity. He'd ripped into the decor, calling it "somewhere between art house and frat house," and labeled Luke and Ashton "spoiled pretty boys pretending to be chefs." Luke had brushed it off with a laugh, but it still bothered Ashton. 

Unlike the Hemmings’, Ashton’s family didn't have money to throw around. He'd started at sixteen, washing dishes and peeling vegetables for Chef François at Bordeaux on Hollywood. He'd taken culinary classes after high school while working full time. Sadly, Chef François had a heart attack and retired around the time he met Luke. 

"You're not listening again," Hima complained, licking her fingers. "Rafi killed it with this wrap. The chicken is amazing, but the cucumber-mint salad and the tamarind chili mayo are next fucking level." 

"You're right, I'm not. Sorry about that," he pushed his plate aside.

"Ok, what's got you so rattled? You've handled the press like a champ up until now. Is it Mackie or Hood? Who needs to catch these hands?" Hima stood and assumed a fighter's stance, bouncing on her toes. 

"Easy there killer, I can defend my own honor. Mackie is an irritating little mosquito. He just wants gossip, but he's got enough readers so we all have to kiss his ass. Hood gave me one of the few bad reviews we got at Lune, and it stuck. He called us frat boys and said we were trying too hard," Ashton rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by saying it out loud. 

Hima raised her eyebrows and smirked, "I love it when you're petty. You're always so perfect and Zen, it's annoying." 

"My therapist would disagree. Oh shit, that reminds me," he straightened up in his chair and grabbed his phone. "I've got an appointment at 2:30. I'll be back before 4," he dropped his eyes to the floor. 

"Ashton," her voice was soft but commanding, and he looked up. "I don't know what's going on, and if you don't want to tell me that's fine. I want you to take care of yourself, whatever that takes. Ok?" He nodded and she smiled, "You can tell Dr. Claire that I've confirmed her for 8 pm Saturday, and you're going to personally cook her dinner. We've got the 50th anniversary that night so maybe you could flex and make your Pavlova's? I'll get the berries myself." 

"It's a deal; we can comp them champagne, too. I'd better get going before I get yelled at. She's a stickler for punctuality, I think it's a British thing."  

"I'll hold things down until you get back," Hima gathered up the dishes and headed out with Ashton right behind her. 

*********

Ashton drew a deep breath and exhaled through his nose as the reporter settled in the chair across from him.  Kevin Mackie's column in L.A. Metro was the definitive opinion for restaurants on the West Coast. His readers loved the snarky tone, celeb sightings, and bitchy gossip that peppered his column. His reviews could make or break new restaurants. 

"Let me start off by saying I love the decor of this place. It's rustic, but not in that played out, hipster-in-the-woods nonsense," he leaned in and lowered his voice towards the end of the comment with a coy smirk. 

"You'll find no Mason jars here," Ashton replied, taking the bait. Kevin liked people who liked him, and his most recent column was a snarky takedown of "Pinterest style interiors." Ashton found the article tedious and uninspired, but there was no need to be antagonistic right out of the gate. 

Ashton watched as the reporter ordered his lunch from their server Zia. He guessed Kevin to be in his forties, and he thought he could see fresh hair plugs, bleached blonde, and a bit of Botox. Rumor had it, he'd recently split with his long-time girlfriend over a fling with a much younger waiter. Ashton tried not to pay attention to industry gossip. However, his personal problems made their way into the column more than once, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the other man's problems. 

After they'd both ordered, Kevin sat back and took a sip of his Pellegrino water and smacked his lips. "I was here the other night and I have to admit I was prepared to be underwhelmed. A menu based on sandwiches and comfort food sounded like an upscale Applebee's, but I really liked it despite myself. I was surprised to see your main girl was on the mature side, but she's efficient as hell so I get the trade-off." 

Ashton's body tensed at the insult to Maisie, and he took a deep breath. Exhaling through his nose he forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Kevin was prattling on with some bit of gossip as Ashton sipped on his iced coffee. 

"So let's start with something simple and ease our way into the rough stuff," Kevin set his voice recorder on the table between them. "Tell me how you formulated your top-secret house coffee blend." 

Ashton broke into a wide grin as he described taking two months to travel and sample different beans, learn more about the roasting and blending process. Kevin sipped his coffee and nodded as if deep in thought, but his eyes kept wandering to Ashton's biceps. He'd been baking this morning so he smelled of cinnamon, his black t-shirt damp and clingy from sweating under his chef coat.

"So we sell the house blend all year, but we have single-source coffee that's seasonal, all of it fair trade," Ashton finished proudly. 

"Coffee has always been your thing if I remember correctly," Kevin said.

"True, true, and once I started roasting my own beans it became a true obsession." 

Kevin followed it up with a couple more softball questions about menu details and sandwiches. Ashton expounded on his love of food. "Cooking for someone is a simple way to show care, to be enjoyed almost as much as dining should be. Food is caring and comfort; it sustains us. It brings people together in a shared experience."

 "Ooh that's a nice pull quote," Mackie chuckled. "I love when y'all have media training. It makes the bullshit flow much smoother.

Ashton seethed but said nothing. He'd watched this man's pettiness wreck a good opening, and Ashton couldn't do that to his crew. Zia brought their lunch. Ashton noticed Kevin had also ordered the chicken mojito wrap. 

"This looks delicious. I think it's a nice touch that you've got so much, let's say diversity, in your restaurant. That you're actually letting them make their own food makes your menu more interesting. Not all restaurants get it. Please tell me you've seen how horribly Finn ripped you off for that tacky Irish pub," Kevin glanced up at him a tiny smirk playing on

"I haven't paid any attention to that," Ashton wanted to end the interview right there. 

"Oh come on, you've had to see how much he's trying to recreate the magic you and Luke once had. The menu is tired, I don't give a fuck if he is Irish. Finn has no imagination yet fancies himself an impresario. Luke's still got it though. He even asked when I was coming here. I didn't tell him of course, I'm a professional after all." 

"Of course," Ashton nodded checking out of the conversation. The reporter talked as he ate which given the wrap he was eating proved especially messy and little flecks of food kept flying his way. Ashton watched the door, nodding at customers, silently willing someone to come and save him. Kevin was still talking about himself when Hima and Zia came out of the kitchen. Ashton tried to catch their eye when he felt a hand on his arm. 

"I wanna ask you about that one," Kevin leaned in so he could almost whisper.

"Who? Hima? What about her?" Ashton was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer. 

"What's the deal? I've only ever seen you with Luke. Did your palette change that much? India must've been a real spiritual awakening for you huh?" Kevin winked at him, thinking he was clever. 

Ashton controlled his breathing trying to keep his temper in check. He looked over at the reporter who kept talking oblivious to the situation. 

"Who doesn't like trying something exotic. She seems like a smart cookie. She's darker than most Indian girls you see, like a rich brown butter sauce. I bet she tastes like tumeric though." 

"Get out of my restaurant" Ashton hissed, his hands gripping the table to restrain himself from physical violence. "You are not going to insult my staff, my friends, in their restaurant." 

Kevin started to speak but Ashton cut him off.

"Not another fucking word" he kept his voice at a low growl so as not to cause a scene. He noticed a couple of the closest tables were already watching them. "You've said enough and I'm barely holding back as it is. Get out of my restaurant, don't ever come back, don't ever speak to me again, and if you trash me in this review I promise you I will find you and fuck you up personally." Ashton stood up and Kevin flinched, the sight would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so furious. He stepped back and the reporter scrambled out of his seat leaving his lunch unfinished. Ashton walked back into the kitchen, Hima fast on his heels. He kicked the door open to the break room and headed for the speed bag hanging in the corner. He'd learned the hard way punching walls usually resulted in the wall winning the fight so he'd given himself something easier on his hands. 

Hima watched him from the door, his back and biceps rippling as he went two minutes at full speed. When he finally turned around she could see the anger had cooled somewhat. She hated that her boss looked incredibly sexy when he was angry. 

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" She asked when he turned back around. 

"Nope, it'll just piss me off all over again, and I gotta get ready for another fucking interview. With a guy who already doesn't like me," Ashton put this coat back on and headed into the line to check on Rafi. 

At least the second interview can't be worse, she thought, wishing she believed it. 

*********

Calum eased his beat up Range Rover into the parking lot of Anne-Marie's amongst the Mercedes, Audi's, and Teslas. He cursed the traffic when he checked the time. He was late, and they were busy. Not a good look he thought, grabbing his bag. 

He smiled at the ladies waiting for a table before introducing himself to the impossibly serene hostess. He was quickly led to a table in an alcove not far from the kitchen. As he pulled out his voice recorder and notebook, he noticed a young woman heading his way. Her black hair was knotted tightly in a bun on top of her head, and her chef's coat had a large streak of what might be hollandaise sauce. He remembered his editor, Jacqueline, telling him Anne-Marie's had a female sous chef. He checked the notes she'd given him quickly as she was stopped by a server. Hima, Culinary Institute of America graduate, 23, Indian maybe? 

"Hello I'm Hima Singh, you must be Calum Hood," she greeted him. From up close, he noticed that her eyes were a rich golden brown and that her smile didn't reach her eyes. He chalked it up to her youth; his editor said she was 23 but she looked like a teenager. He mentally stopped himself there. He'd become jaded by one too many husband/wife teams in recent years trying to rebrand a post-divorce startup as a "new adventure." While the divorce was true, Calum knew Ashton's history.

"Yup that's me, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hima," he shook her hand, relieved to see her relax a bit. 

"Chef Irwin will be out shortly. He's helping with a problem in the back" she glanced towards the kitchen, and Calum had a feeling she was lying.

"Can I get you something while you wait? Do you like coffee? We have a house blend cold brew Chef Irwin selected himself that we roast and grind on-site," she asked motioning towards the sign listing the daily selection of teas and coffee. 

"Thanks, but maybe not coffee. I'm nervous enough without more caffeine," he admitted, "but the lavender and blackberry infused lemonade sounds amazing." He smiled and her face softened. 

"Absolutely," she signaled to Zia who brought Calum his drink and a basket of warm, fluffy yeast rolls with Anne Marie's cinnamon honey butter. The smell reminded Calum he'd skipped breakfast as his stomach began to rumble. 

"So you're Chef Irwin's sous chef? I heard a rumor you were a partner as well," he asked, almost drooling as he tore into the soft bread, watching the steam escape. 

"Yes sir," Hima's smile finally reached her eyes, and she sat down across from him. "When he got his core team together for Anne Marie's, there's three of us total. Desean and Rafi are his kitchen managers, and he gave us the opportunity to buy in as minority investors, no pun intended." 

"These rolls are incredible. Please take one before I finish this whole basket and ruin my lunch. How long have the three of you worked for Ashton, excuse me, Chef Irwin?" He asked.

"Desean and Rafi were part of his Lune Rouge crew. They go way back, but he met me fresh out of school and took me under his wing," she told him.

"Did you go to CIA?" Calum was jotting down notes, getting a feel for the story.

"I wish, it's so pretty up there. My twin brother attended Brown, and I went to Johnson and Wales so we could stay close." 

"You're a twin? Is he a chef as well?" Calum asked.

"Are you kidding? He's a lawyer, of course, my parents had to have one in the family," Hima laughed. 

Zia appeared beside their table. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rafi is looking for you, Hima." 

A worried frown replaced her warm smile and Calum felt his nerves bubbling back up. He glanced around and caught sight of Ashton, flushed and sweaty from the heat of the kitchen, poking his head around the corner. Their eyes met, and Calum felt like he'd been hit by lightning.  

Hima saw his reaction and whipped around to see what Calum was looking at. Spotting her boss she quickly excused herself and hurried to the back. 

Zia cleared her throat and Calum realized she was still standing next to his table.

"Would you like to try Rafi's plantain skewers while you wait? It's my favorite thing here, and it'll leave room for whatever these geniuses cook up," she asked with a smile and a wink. 

He nodded and she headed to the server station to put the order in. Calum looked around and started taking notes.  The most striking thing about the decor was how they'd used diffused skylights for soft lighting to accent the Nakashima-style crafted wooden furniture.  Thanks to his Mom’s love of Antiques Roadshow when he was younger Calum discovered his preference for natural grain wood and bespoke pieces. He liked the use of pastel neon signs to complement the muted green and blue tones of the mosaic tile floors and he thought the framed pictures of what he assumed were family photos of the staff provided a really nice personal touch. The largest photo was in the bar of Ashton and his mother, the restaurant's namesake, Anne Marie. 

Zia set a plate down in front of him. "The boss will be out in a minute., Let me get you some more tea," she told him. 

The skewers consisted of chunks of pineapple, plantain, red onion, and sweet potato grilled and dusted with chili powder and brown sugar served with a yogurt sauce for dipping. 

Calum was almost finished with the first one when Ashton came out of the back, making his way towards him. The chef stopped to talk to several customers, the hostess, and Zia before he made it to Calum's table. Cal licked his fingers, wiping his hands clean with a Sani-wipe before standing up and offering a handshake. 

Ashton took his hand and Calum wasn't expecting it to feel so soft. Caught off guard Calum stammered out an introduction as he sat, but he noticed Ashton just nodded, barely listening. 

"If today isn't a good day we can reschedule," Calum sipped his tea, his throat suddenly dry.

"I'm here aren't I?" Ashton snapped. He folded his arms across his chest, his hazel eyes narrowing at Calum. "I still remember your first review you know."

Calum's pulse was racing. He hated confrontation, and he hadn't expected Ashton to kick off right away. He knew he'd better suck it up and apologize if this wasn't going to go completely off the rails. 

"Listen, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have been such a dickhead."  As he spoke Ashton scoffed at him and Calum felt his cheeks get warm.  "I was young and stupid. I let something personal affect that review. I'm sorry." 

"Personal? With Luke? What do you mean by that?" Ashton went from annoyed to hostile.

Calum realized he'd said something wrong but wasn't sure what exactly. He was floundering trying to think of what to say next. 

"Nothing with Luke, no no no. I was involved with Finn and we weren't getting along. It's so stupid I know, but I think you're a great chef. The new place looks incredible, and Hima is a delight." 

The anger drained from Ashton's face, leaving him looking empty and sad. His head dropped to his chest, and Calum held his breath waiting for him to speak. 

"I'm really sorry, it's not you, but I can't do this right now. Maybe we can reschedule or something. My apologies, but I have to get back to work," Ashton mumbled, standing up. 

Calum spotted Hima watching them from the podium, chewing on her lip, her black eyes wide with concern as Ashton hurried back to the kitchen. Calum started to get up but she was too quick for him. 

"Well, aren't you lucky. I'm going on my lunch and I hate to eat alone," she slid back into the seat across from him. "Please forgive my boss. He's had a rough day, but I'm better company anyway." She waved to Zia who headed their way. "You gotta try the toasted gnocchi with gorgonzola cream sauce if you like cheese, but if you want something lighter the apple carrot kale wrap is excellent too," she smiled at him, and to her relief he smiled back, both of them realizing the situation might be salvageable after all.

(A/N: y’all my tag list, much like my life, is a hot mess. I know some of what I write isn’t for everyone. If you want tagged in part 2 of this fic or my upcoming smuts, pink kink series, or dad!calum series please let me know. I apologize for my previous mistake)

@sublimehood​ @tea4sykes​ @be-ready-when-i-say-go​ @scribblesos​ @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995​ @wildmichaelflower​ @castaway-cashton​ @damselindistressanu​ @notinthesameguey​ @cashtonasfuck​ @irwinkitten​ @mermaidcashton​ @malumsmermaid​

[cecilspeaks]

164 - The Faceless Old Woman (Live)

[applause]

Jeffrey Cranor: I’m really excited, we wrote this script recently coming up in this last performance for tonight. And I got real excited for writing it, cause we haven’t written like a, to do a live show full length in a new voice. And it was a lot of fun to do.

Joseph Fink: Yeah so tonight we are presenting the first Welcome to Night Vale show that is entirely from the point of view of someone who is not Cecil, this is the time when the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home gets to step out from her secret.. place in your home. [laughter] And tell you a little bit about herself.

Jeffrey: One of my favorite things about writing the Faceless Old Woman stuff is cause the way Joseph and I work is that we’ll write episodes or write parts of episodes and pass it to the other and that person will, sometimes have questions but oftentimes just maybe like add something to it. So a lot of times it’s either, when I get stuff back from Joseph and I dunno if he feels the same way getting stuff back form me, with the Faceless Old Woman script it was always either something really hilarious for something really upsetting. [laughter] And I really love that a lot.

Joseph: This is maybe the most upsetting thing we’ve ever written, I hope you guys enjoy it. [laughter]

Jeffrey: Have fun, good night! [applause]

Joseph: I guess we should start that show we talked about.

Jeffrey: Let’s do it. You guys, let’s welcome to the stage your friend and ours, Mara Wilson!

[applause] [long silence]

Mara Wilson: I am the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. Hello. You don’t know me, but I know you. I know you very well. I’ve been going through your medicine cabinet. You take too much Advil. Do you realize how hard that is on your digestion? I know a couple gelcaps and a glass of water before bed can alleviate a morning hangover, but it also puts you in a bad mood, because you don’t get good sleep with all that extra stress you put on your guts. You know what’s a better hangover cure? Not drinking like it’s the last day of community college. I replaced your vodka with clear Windex, and your Advil with Ipecac. This won’t help your hangovers, but it certainly will be more entertaining for me. I don’t sleep, so I need better late night entertainment than Netflix. I’ve already watched every episode of “Money Heist” and “Criminal Man” and “Planet documentary”, I have to spice it up a little bit.

Which reminds me, sorry about the tarantula incident last week. And here I’m speaking specifically to you, Tony. Yes you, in the shirt. The one hoping I’m not talking about you. I’m not sorry you woke up with a tarantula covering your face, nor that it bit you, causing your eyelids to swell up like Kinder eggs filled with purulent discharge instead of toys. I am sorry that I forgot to turn the flash off of my camera, which alarmed both you and the spider, and I never got a good photo. I’ve been building up my portfolio for an art exhibit I call “Gross Things on a Sleeping Tony”. It’s going up June 1, exclusively in your living room.  I’ve already gotten “Open-mouthed Centipede Bouquet” framed. You’re gonna find this show absolutely terrific.  Wait no, not terrific, what’s the word? Terrifying.

Tony, you’re one of my favorites in Night Vale. I know you hate your direct marketing job selling high interest credit cards to twenty-somethings, but the benefits are great. You have health care, a 401k, and you get to take advantage of people less fortunate than you. Everything is its own reward. But I’ve read your poetry, you love poetry. To be fair, there isn’t a big job market for poets, but you need to explore what makes you happy. I tattooed one of my favorite lines of poetry on you last month. It’s by Mary Oliver. “Instructions for living a life. Close your eyes. Be scared. Good luck.” And then I drew a little butterfly next to the words. I’m not the best artists, though, so it kind of looks like a radish or a sarcoma. Doesn’t matter, you still haven’t noticed. It’s just right below your right shoulder blade, don’t try to find it now, it’s still healing and given that I used the metal rod from that fondue set in your closet as the needle, it’s possible it’s infected. Better to leave it alone.

Tony, look at me. Imagine where my eyes would be. You have a lot to work through. I’m here to help you, I really am. I’ll prove it by giving you some advice. If a venomous arthropod is on your face, don’t scream.

Anyway, it’s not you Tony who’s bothering me, it’s the new people. They are elderly, like me, and they just moved into a house in the center of Night Vale. Or maybe this is decades from now, time is a little hazy for me. I’ve never been in this house nor noticed it before they moved in. it’s a one bedroom and there are three of them. I thought polyamory, but they have three separate beds and they never speak to each other, rarely look at each other, and never leave the home. The first night I secretly lived in their home, I realized they never slept either. They brushed their teeth, put on pajamas and get into bed. But they all lie there, eyes open, through silent hours of darkness.

I tried whispering to them but got no response. Usually when I reveal myself in the dark, I get the thrill of witnessing horror dawn across a person’s distorted mouth and bulging eyes as they see my faceless face pressed up against their own. One of the best parts of visiting new residents. But not these three. For once, I’m the frightened one.

Speaking of frightening, did you get your taxes (-) [0:08:20] on time Alex? You, you’re Alex. You with the shoes. I had to file for an extension. I don’t owe any money because I have no income, but I’m over 200 years old, never got a social security number, have no permanent address and I wasn’t born in this country, it’s a lot of paperwork. And Alex, you know your Wi-Fi is terrible and I was having a hard time downloading the forms I needed, so I just wrote my name on some yellowish-black Boston lettuce you’ve left in the crisper for the last three weeks. But the leaves kept falling apart, I think more like melting. After about 20 minutes, I got frustrated and just made myself a salad. Also, I used the last of your parmesan cheese, but don’t worry, I replaced it with dried skin I’ve been collecting from your bed sheets. Don’t be grossed out, Alex. Same texture and nutritional value, you won’t know the difference. I got the idea from a Food Network’s “Beat Bobby Flay”, where this one winner tied up Bobby and ran a (micro-) [0:09:17] across his forehead to make a chimichurri sauce.

I love that show, but I’m a bigger fan of HGTV’s “House Hunters”, the desert dystopian version. That’s where I met you, Addie. Yes you, with the face. You were shopping for a new home here in Night Vale. You told the realtor - who was inside of a living deer, its belly horrifically distended and quivering with every one of the agent’s words and gesticulation – that you wanted three bedrooms, a back yard, and something close to an outdoor community space. The first home, the yard was not in good shape, lots of (- remains) [0:09:55] and the lawn was glowing, perhaps from underground radiation testing. It was well under your budget, but you would have had to spend your savings on fixing it up. Also, in the bathroom mirror you saw, crawling across the ceiling, a faceless old woman devouring what looked like a rat. You didn’t need to worry about a rat infestation, Addie. It was a chipmunk. The second home was a condo right in the heart of the arts district. You loved the design: a simple large black cube, no doors, no windows, no interior. A true closed floor plan, so popular these days. But you weren’t sure there was enough room for entertaining, or anything else at all. The house you selected was perfect. Three bedrooms, a Jacuzzi en suite, and a large patio backyard. Plus it was right in the middle of town next to a community dog park. Although you would be disappointed later to learn that your dog had been arrested for domestic espionage after peeing inside the park’s forbidden walls. I think you made the right choice, Addie, but I can’t help wondering every time I watch “House Hunters”, who is this person running away from? You left Queens to move to Night Vale. Queens is where your family lives, where your best friend lives, and your girlfriend of two years. Are you afraid of stasis, Addie? Of being loved, of commitment? You might be afraid of that pinkish ooze coming out of your ear, might wanna see an ENT about that. Or if not an ENT, an entomologist.

Speaking of putting woodboring beetles inside orifices, I tried a similar thing with the elderly room mates who recently moved to town, or will move to town many years from now, again time is strange to me. But these room mates are also so strange. When I went to put a beetle into one of their ears, I noticed a lot of scar tissue there, making the hole too small. In my haste, the beetle scurried away and I got kind of desperate and just made a bunch of spooky moans and hisses like this: [moans, hisses] but not one of the three responded to me. They continued their meaningless pantomime of sleeping, and in the morning they got up and each went quietly about their days. One of them made coffee, but did not drink it. They then went to the window and waved at their neighbor, Susan Willman, who was on her porch stretching before her morning run. Susan looked at the figure in the window next to her and froze. She stared in terror, then darted back into her home and locked the door. Susan has always been unfriendly. I ran her bed sheets through her office shredder as a reminder to be more open and loving toward the world.

The other two room mates climbed into the shower at the same time. I’m not one to get off on others’ sexual activities, I just thought I might see something new, something human here. But no, they stood side by side, cleaning their cold gravity-defeated bodies, not once looking at each other let alone speaking. A squelch and a squish and grey water falling around yellow toenails. They toweled off, but when they hung the towels up, those towels were completely dry.

I’m used to being the one who does inexplicable and disturbing things. Last year during the community players’ production of “Romeo and Juliet”, I decided it would be more fun if they used actual poison. But it was a last minute idea, so the only poison I could find was Borax. Which just gave the two kids playing the leads several unhappy hours in the bathroom on the night after the show ended, so I don’t know. I could have made a stronger directorial choice. But so could the actual director, I get that Shakespeare plays are long, but he cut out all the best parts like the train robbery, and also Tybalt winning his bowling league. Although I did appreciate that they left in Juliet’s famous line: “Good night, good night, your blood and guts and marrow, which worms shall eat inside your grave so narrow.” It’s a classic story. Kids these days just don’t try to fake their own deaths anymore.

Oh. And Morgan. Yes Morgan, I’m talking to you, you with the fingernail sand the teeth. I need to explain something to you. You tip 20 per cent. You can afford it, stop using it as a measure of how much you approve of the restaurant service. A 20 per cent tip is not  bonus, it’s a fee. Restaurant owners don’t pay their staffs, instead they make the diners pay their employees through this idiotic notion of capitalist meritocracy. I don’t care how bad the service, tip them. You have money, Morgan. I would also tell you to stop asking to speak to a manager every time your Long Island Ice Tea is a bit like, but I got out your tongue last month, so they wouldn’t understand you anymore anyway. Do you know what a cut human tongue tastes like, Morgan? Yes you do. You just don’t know that you do. Remember Applebee’s last week? You ordered soup. It was a beef base with  little onions and little perfectly sautéed flecks of your own tongue that you had used to lash out at a manager the last time you ate there. You could blame them for poorly expediting your orders, but really the onus is on you for going to Applebee’s. Which serves neither of the items its name promises. It’s false advertising. It’s like an egg cream soda, or Taco Bell.

Speaking of eating, the elderly room mates made lunch together, but not for each other. They were all in the kitchen at the same time making separate meals in silence. They sat around the dining room table together and ate. They carved and stabbed and pushed foods quickly into their mouths, but their eyes were empty. One of them began to spit out their food. No one seemed to care or notice. They all began to vomit, but not with muscular heaves of shoulders and necks, the vomit spurted out like water from a hand pump, their torsos and heads perfectly still. After each bodily rejection of food, they would start shoveling it back to their mouths, repeating the same process. Eventually one of them stood up and threw their plate into the kitchen window, glass bursting everywhere. That person leaned into the hole and began punching the jagged shards out with their clenched fists as blood poured out of their forearms and wrists. They screamed mournfully into the suburban street. Neighbors and passers-by passed only briefly, as if they had barely heard the sad howls spreading across the valley. Susan’s lemon tree next door died instantly and all the lemons fell with wet plops to the ground. The fruit pealed open and inside of each was a fleshy crimson pulp, like meat that has been ground for too long. The other two room mates kept eating and vomiting, not even noticing the shattered glass being subsumed by the growing pool of blood on the floor.

You know, I wasn’t always like this, faceless or old. Secretly living anywhere. Once I was born upon warm water. The smell I remember is sharp citrus and the peppery sting of grass. The salt funk of ocean. I was once a child. I grieved once. I smelled blood. Once I was a thief. I lived among thieves, I saw empires rise and fall, centuries cast themselves upon infinity as fruitlessly as waves upon cliffs. Once I was a recluse. I lived amongst bandits and farmers, I spoke a different language then. I’ve spoken many languages.

Once I was under the sea. That was a quiet time. I lived amongst the coral and dead-eyed fish. Once I was a wanderer. I’ve seen the (head) [0:18:14] waters of the Mississippi and I’ve seen the cobbled streets of Paris and I’ve seen the empty arches of Franchia. But I’ve never seen anything like those three room mates. Of all the things I've been – child, thief, recluse, wandered, faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, I’ll tell you this: I’ve never been more scared.

Fear is in the unknowing and the mystery. Fear is seeing everything about an old woman except her face. Fear is the uncertainty of her secretly living in your home. Fear is not the spider you see on the wall. It’s the spider you no longer see on the wall when you look back again.

In the unnerving din of shattered glass and mournful howls of that house, I found the loose thread that unraveled this mystery. The room mate who screamed had no tongue. And one of the others had an ear swollen shut from a previous surgery. And the other had a red mark, like a radish or sarcoma adorned with poetry drawn upon their shoulder blade. I realized I knew these three strange room mates. They are you, Tony, the special tattoo I gave you. And they are you, Addie, with your oral scar tissue from the beetle I jammed in there. And you, Morgan, with your tongue removed and digested. The three of you do not exactly live together in that home, not at the same time. You are living three different lifetimes in that same space. You do not speak or respond, because you are dead. Each of you alone in that house together, or you will be, time is confusing for me. Decades from now after you die, your souls will be trapped in the house, because something in this world is unresolved for you. You know this, paranormal neuroscience is required for all high school freshmen. But what they don’t teach you is how to resolve it. I know how and when each one of you die. I wrote it down on the back pages of your journals. Iv’e done this for everybody, but nobody ever reads it, because while people always think they’ll write every day, after a few pages they fall off the wagon and never see the lsat pages of their journals. Except Jonathan Franzen. He didn’t seem bothered by what he read. But he did cross out all my adverbs and added some Oxford commas. In case you’re wondering how Jonathan Franzen dies, here’s the answer: he doesn’t.

I am the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home. You might find this ambiguous, after all the word “home” is singular. So whose home is it that I secretly live in? Listen, some things in this tangled world are simple. I live in your home, and your home, and your home, I live in all of your homes simultaneously. I am many. [echo] I am many. I am one. [echo] I am one. You all live such different lives, teeming, that’s what you are: teeming. And I am there watching you.

You, Tony, you dream of being a poet. Resolve the unresolved. The worst that can happen is crushing disappointment and public mockery, and eviction when you can’t pay your rent. Many more awful things after that, get to it!

And you, Addie, you fled your previous city to escape a murder charge. Strangely, you didn’t commit the murder you were charged with, but you have committed murder. Weird choice to go on “House Hunters” as a wanted fugitive, but maybe it was a good first step to healing your soul.

And you, Morgan. You have an idea that could save us all, an epic defining idea, one of the greats, but you don’t know which one. You have so many ideas. I can tell you this: most of them are not important. One of them is vitally important. Good luck. Also, tip 20 per cent.

And you, I forgot your name, you tweet too much. We all tweet too much, but that doesn’t let you off the hook. That’s why I ate your phone. You can thank me later. You can all thank me later. Because you all will be seeing me soon. I think that tonight is the night to let slip my secret. You’ll soon see me fumbling wet and gray from out of the bathroom mirror, or folded up strangely loose skin and mashed bones in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Or you will see me scuttle on your walls, the hair hanging down from my faceless face. Or you will look out your kitchen window and there will be someone standing in your driveway, and it will be me, and there will be no one in the driveway and instead, I will be next to you in the kitchen. Faceless and so very very old. Won’t that be nice?

I’m the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. And your home. And your home. And every home. And I will be seeing you very, very soon.

[music, applause]

Today’s proverb: Never judge a book by its cover. Judge it by the title page instead.

[artxyra]

MLxDCs Titans | Part 1

*I’m pretty sure this is going to be my biggest regret or my greatest pride. Whelp lets see after I go hide in the closet. Enjoy. 

“If I’m Robin, then who are you?” Jason asks pointing to himself.

Dick takes a second and allowed the question to affect him. He lets out a quick chuckle, “That’s a good question.” The former Robin then exit the training room.

The system alerts that someone is at the main entrance. Dick pulls up the feed to show a young woman wearing a pale pink jacket and dark pants. The figure appears to be irritated at the system denying her access to the building.

“Shit,” Dick mutters quickly and rushes to the main entrance.

The newly built Titans look at each in wonder. Who could this person be?

“Mari!” Dick greets opening the door to Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“So, you changed the codes,” Marinette states walking through the threshold, her hand gripping her purse. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but you know…” She trails, off avoiding eye contact with the older.

“Where have you been?” Dick questions rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Marinette tease setting her purse down at the counter, blankly ignoring the teens in the area watching with curiosity.

“Actually, yes, Mari, I would like to know.”

Marinette sighs and turns her full attention to the so-called leader—well he’s more of a mentor now.

“I’ve been everywhere, Dick. These past few months have been hectic.” The twenty-four-year-old tries to avoid. “However, I do have to thank you.”

Dick looks around lost at the woman that is his adopted little sister. “Thank me for what?”

“My apartment. I moved back in three months ago and imagined my surprised when the landlady told me that I’m now the owner of a condo rather than an apartment.” Marinette smiles.

It was only, after she left Dick in a confused then, that she turns to the breakfast eating teens.  

“Hi, I’m Marinette.” She greets them.

Jason stares mildly in a daze, wondering how this dark-haired, small woman could render the first Robin speechless. Gar gave the face of a lost puppy that just found his long-lost toy, while Rachel—well Rachal didn’t know what she was feeling. This woman’s brightness clouded her ever-growing darkness and that made her wary.

“Don’t pay her any attention, she’s just about to leave.” Dick irrupts pulling on Marinette’s right forearm to which the latter breaks free from his grasp.

“Don’t listen to him,” She counters sending them a smirk before whispering, “He has no power over me.”

It is then that Jason breaks free from his daze to laugh out the suffering of his predecessor. “Oh… this is gold, I never thought I would see the day Dick Grayson is afraid of a woman.” He laughs out clinging onto his sweatshirt.

“Hi, your beautiful--I mean, I’m Gar.” Gar tries to greet the pastel-dark clothed woman. Marinette lets out a giggle shakes he’s hand.

“And what about you two?” She wonders balancing her focus between Jason and Rachel.

“Um…I’m Rachel, and he’s Jason.” Something in Marinette told her to comfort the mysterious teen as she pulls Rachel in for a hug.

“Hey, is everything okay? And don’t just tell me you’re fine, I know fine when I see it.” Rachel avoids her worried graze. “We can talk about later in private if you want.” Marinette then offers a soft smile to the thirteen-year-old.

“I would like that.” Rachel murmurs before continuing to eat her breakfast.

“I’m Todd, Jason Todd.” Jason greets introduces himself.

“Let me guess, you’re the new Robin,” Marinette smirks biting the inside of her cheek.

Jason’s confident stance fails to remain as he tries to hide his slightly red cheeks.

“Do you plan on staying?” Dick finally interrupts the introductions.

“I don’t know.” Marinette pats Jason on his shoulder before walking over to the original Robin. “That is if you meant here at the tower, or in San Francisco in general.”

“You know what I mean.” He states folding his arm.

The three teens’ ears perk up wanting to hear the woman’s answers.

“You know I can’t answer that, Dick.” Marinette folders her arms and look off to the side. How dare he ask her questions like that. 

Dick sighs and pulls Marinette in for a hug. He places his chin on top of her head knowing that moments like these were what he was missing. The two adults stay like that for a few minutes before the timer for the stove goes off. Dick immediately breaks the hold and tend to the food.

“So, who are you to Dick? His lover—” Jason began to question but is immediately cut off by what he would call a burst of angelic laughter.

“No, no, I’m practically his sister.” Marinette laughs cutting down that assumption just as quick. “Besides Dick isn’t my type.”

Jason knew that this woman needs to protect and that he would do anything to ensure it. Keeping up his bad-boy exterior, he excuses himself back to the training room. If you ask Jason what he was doing in there, he would deny any reason related to screaming his anger out about Dick.

“Well, he seems…nice.” Marinette acknowledges cutting herself a piece of the breakfast casserole that Dick recently took out of the oven. She grimaces at the taste of the food but quickly hides it with a face of astonished.

“You still can’t cook.” Marinette huffs as she now finished half of her casserole piece.

“What do you mean by that?” Dick asks offended.

Marinette gestures to the food in front of her. “This may be editable, but it tastes like crap, Dick. I would offer to cook something, but I think I’m going to wait for dinner as breakfast seems to be over.” The female heroine states gesturing to the lack of food on the table and children in the vicinity.

Dick sighs and takes a seat next to the designer. “What have you been up to?” To others, it may have seemed like a flat question, but Marinette knew him enough to know that he legitimately cares.

“Didn’t I told you that I’ll be the one to make dinner.” A small furious dark-haired Frenchwoman screech out the moment she enters the kitchen.

Marinette hasn’t been at the tower for more than several hours and Dick is already making bad decisions regarding the teams’ health.

“It’s healthy, I promise.” Dick counters handing her a slice. Marinette takes a bit and immediately gags. She swallows of course but it was rough. How dare her palette be altered like that.

“Dick, cauliflower for a crust is one thing and I can make it better.” Marinette scolds tossing the remaining of her slice and turning to the kitchen.

“It’s fine, Mari. Gar loved it.”

“I’m pretty sure Gar is a vegetarian, Dick.”

Marinette soon took over the kitchen only for a bright light flashing across the window stops her. She motions for Dick to look with her.

“TV?” Marinette asks.

“TV.” With that, the two adults rush over to the television. They immediately call out to the other and sat down.

The news on a live car chase said it all.

“…We’re live on a downtown car chase with a stolen vehicle. The police seem to have the suspect cornered…” The male news anchor spoke.

Marinette folds her arm watching the fight between a young teen and a group of trained policemen. She barely acknowledges Rachel’s question and Jason’s answer. The girl's moves to were familiar to the woman and she knew by looking at Dick from her peripheral that he knows it too.

It after the footage shows the patched-eyed girl jumping across a building and crashing into a window that Marinette saw a change in her brother.

“Dick, don’t do it.” She murmurs hoping the other didn’t catch her words.

That didn’t stop Dick from stating, “I’ll be back.” And walking out of the room.

Marinette could only huff her brother’s hero’s complex and turn her attention to the team. “I guess that is enough TV for tonight.” She says shutting off the news. “Anyone still hungry, I can make a mean organic pizza if you want?” She gestures towards the kitchen.

Rachel nods feeling her stomach growl in hunger.

“Hold up, you’re not the one in charge here, I am.” Jason complains, but one look from Marinette’s “try me if you dare” expression told him to back down.

“I’m not saying that I’m in charge.” Marinette argues, “I’m asking if you want something other than the crap that Dick prepared earlier.”

“I’m full, but do you mind if I watch?” Gar warily asks only to receive a heartwarming smile and a nod from the person of interest. “Yes!” He gloats running into the kitchen.

While heading to the kitchen, Marinette couldn’t help but stop to look at the door wondering where Dick could have gone at this time of night or better yet who would he bring home.

When Dick returned with the unconscious body of the teen that was in the car chase, Marinette could only sigh and restrain herself from hitting the twenty-eight-year-old in the head.

“You are crazy to bring her here. What will the other say?” Marinette rubs the bridge of her nose.

“Just let me put her in a room.” Dick evades maneuvering to an empty room.

Marinette could only let out a slight growl before returning to her latest design. When Dick came back into the room, he sighs and tapes against the table. Marinette looks up, closing her sketchbook and stands up. Dick motions for her to follow him.

Together they enter the control room. Dick immediately place a camera on the mysterious teen’s room.

“What are you planning?” Marinette murmurs leaning against the desk.

“To be honest, I have no idea.” He answers watching the monitor.

Marinette yawns, but she steadies herself finely, “You can’t save them all, Dick. They’re going to want answers.”

“What do you think of her?” He asks.

Marinette chuckles lightly. Maybe it was a lack of caffeine that is making her like this or she wad genuine got the wrong idea when Dick leaned into the desk. “She has to be meta. I’m placing that on the table now. No one can make a crash like that and live. She has the skills, but do wonder,” Marinette pauses. “How did she get the eye patch?”

Dick could agree, he too wonders about the eye patch.

“We’ll find out when she wakes up.” He leans back into the main chair.

Marinette yawns again. Looking around, she finds a comfortable spot on the floor. This isn’t the best place, but she can at least rest her eyes.

“When the last time you had caffeine?” Dick asks out of the blue only to have his question answered by a small red kwami. “Hello Tikki, I’m surprised you decided to make an appearance.”

The kwami of creation scoffs at the former Robin and settles down on the desk. “She’s right, you haven’t changed at all, Richard.”

Dick sighs, “I thought we were over that, Tikki.”

Tikki hums looking over to her chosen. “We were but then you decided to do something completely left-field leaving Marinette broken. You weren’t the one to put her back to together, Richard. I was.”

Dick rubs his hand against his face, “Whatever.” He murmurs turning his attention to the screen rather than the kwami glowering at him.

At least an hour past before his phone rings, Marinette upon hearing the added noise, shifts in her sleep. Her eyes flutter open as sits herself up.

“Hank?” He answers accepting the call.

“We got trouble. Dawn and I just got a visit from Dr. Light.” Hank states over the phone.

Dick shifts in his chair. Marinette’s fully awake now to listen in on the conversation.

“You okay?” Dick asks.

“We are but the kid we were helping… wasn’t so lucky.” 

“Sure, that it was Dr. Light?” Dick turns to Marinette catching her concern look.

“We just saw a kid burn up from the inside out. Pretty sure it was him.”

Marinette gasps hearing the news, tears water in her eyes. She knows that it wasn’t their fault, but someone just lost their lives because of an old foe of theirs.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Dick gets up from the chair. “I thought that he was still in prison.”

Marinette wants to hug the man in front of her, but she knows how angsty Dick gets when news like this breaks out.

“I guess he paroled himself.”

Dick looks around, his mind going several miles per second. “This is bad.”

“No shit.”

Making a firm decision Dick offers them a suggestion. “You guys should come here. We should get together to figure this out.”

There was a long pause on the other side of the phone.

“Okay. We’re on our way.” Once Hank said that Dick hangs up the phone. His mind now focuses on a singular person that just so happened to wake up.

“Go. I’ll meet you down there.” Marinette says wiping the remaining sleep out of her eyes.  

Letting out a last yawn, she turns towards Tikki who gave her a warm smile.

“He’s going to need you, you know.” Tikki hints before disappearing back to her hiding spot on Marinette’s person. Marinette turns to the monitors to see the family surrounding the poor teen in the kitchen. She sighs, this will continue to be a long night.

Making her way down to the living room, she couldn’t help but smirk at the mini-feud between the girl and Dick.

“You can’t keep me here against my will. It’s kidnapping.” Their mystery guest remarks pacing in front of Dick.

“Call it a precautionary.” He answers keeping his cool.

Marinette rolls her eyes and decided to make herself known. “She’s right you know. It is kidnapping.”

The designer takes a seat next to her brother-figure and examines the girl. Near white hair, every Asian feature much like herself. It looks like she’s been on the run for quite some time.

“That doesn’t matter,” Dick said to Marinette before turning his attention back to the girl. “I saw what you can do out on the streets. Look like you might need some help.”

“You’re not making things better.” Marinette murmurs under her breath, pursing her lips deciding on whether to say and be a mediator or leave and come back later. She knows that the girl wanted to leave, this wasn’t her kind of scenery and being with the newly proclaimed Titans just makes her a bigger target.

“No.” Marinette’s thoughtful daze crash down into nothingness when she saw Dick up from his seat. She looks between the two, wondering who would make the first move.

“If you’re going to battle, take it to the training room.” The designer begs, however, the two ignores her and goes into a calmly made argument about privacy. Marinette only groans but she watches diligently.

“Okay. Let’s start with who you are.” Dick gets up and enters a mild glaring back with the long-haired teen. “You have a name?”

Great, just great, she was being ignored again. Marinette sighs and gets up also. Can she possibly make it to the front door and leave before this gets any worse? Probably not.

“I’m going to go check on the others,” Marinette speaks up before darting down the hall and heading towards the training room. She did not want to stay in the room any longer than it needed to be.

“You should have stayed, Marinette,” Tikki speaks up from her hiding spot.

“I know, Tikki, but the tension was rising too quickly for more liking.” Marinette protested founding herself at the training room entrance. “You should hide.”

Tikki ducks her head back into her hiding spot and continues to be silent. Marinette doesn’t go in, but she does linger to listen in on the younger’s intention.

“You think she’s metahuman?” Marinette heard Rachel asks one of the boys. It was probably best for her to intercept the conversation.

“She can quite possibly be a metahuman, Rachel. But we won’t know for sure until something happens, or we get a DNA sample.”

“Mari!” The group calls out not expecting to see the newest—or would be the oldest edition to the Titans. Marinette smiles and walks to the center as Jason tries to show off some moves. She’s not impressed but she does humor the newest Robin with a smile.

“Yeah or an alien…like Kory.” Gar adds on to his statement.

“I doubt she’s an alien, Gar.” Marinette states and folds her arm.

“If she was like Kory, those cops wouldn’t be alive right now.” Rachal counters dismantling the Kory theory.

“Who’s Kory?” Marinette pipes up.

Rachal jumps a little seeing as Marinette is exactly beside her wearing a confused facial expression. Gar and Rachel eye each other.

“She’s an alien that likes Dick.” Jason chimed in moving the sword swiftly.

Marinette chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Of course,” she mumbled hoping the teens wouldn’t catch her drift behind that. “What do you think of the girl, Jason? You’ve been quiet.”

“Well she can fight; I’ll give her that.” Jason swings the sword down adding in his two cents into the conversation once more. “Whoever she is she had training.”

“Yes, and from what I’d gather she’s running from someone. No one likes that survives that long without proper training.” Marinette informed the group, but she was unsure how much she should give to the teens. If they were smart enough, they would have hacked into the mainframe to look at her information rather than sit around discussing theories. Not that she would give them that idea. Maybe they will figure it out for themselves.

“Did you guys see her eye when Dick was changing the bandage?” Gar warily asks as he was avoiding eye contact with Marinette. This prompted a gasp out of the adult.

“When did he do that?” Unfortunately, her question is ignored.

“What about it?” Rachel asks.

Marinette decided it was best to tune out the teens as they talk amongst themselves. Tikki nudges Marinette from her hiding stop causing the miraculous user to excuse herself out of the room.

“What was that about, Tikki?” Marinette asks the kwami of creation.

“They were on to something, Marinette.” Tikki urges.

“I know, but sometimes it better for them to talk it amongst themselves before dealing with head-on,” Marinette utters looking back into the training room.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Marinette hums, “No, but I will keep my ears opens. They’re smarter than what Dick gives them credit for.” The designers fold her arms and lean against the wall. Her shoulders became more relax as she sighs.

The door slides open showing Rachel leaving the room and heading in the direction of the control room. Marinette checks her phone, it was late.

“We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow, Tikki. Maybe we should get some sleep.” Tikki only coughs at her chosen knowing full-well that sleep isn’t something on Marinette’s to-do list.

Making sure that Dick would be alright, she walks to the control room. As she moves closer, she could tell that Dick was in the middle of the phone call. She smiles and opts to go to her guest room.

Sighing, Marinette pulls out her sketchbook and begins drawing what looks to be an outline of a suit.

“Marinette…” Tikki trails off hovering over her chosen. However, a phone call breaks the concentration.

Marinette accepts the call and holds it with her shoulder blades to her ear. “Marinette speaking.”

“Hey Nette, how’s San Francisco?” It’s Kagami.

“Three months here and I’m indecisive,” Marinette admits, shading her design.

“It can’t be that bad. How’s Dick?”

“He’s just like he was five years ago.” Marinette pauses. “To be honest, Gami, I don’t know if this was a good idea. Too many loose ends and I fear it’s only going to get worse”

A single tear falls onto the sketch.

“You’re strong, Marinette, don’t ever forget that.”

“Thank you,” Marinette whispers being choosing to end the call with a promise of calling the woman again in the morning.

The next morning, Marinette was nowhere to be seen in the Tower. Not even for breakfast, however, she did leave a note saying that she’ll be back.

Gar and Jason took it upon themselves to look up their mysterious guest, only to find out that she’s the daughter of the one and only Deathstroke. 

Tag List:  @mystery-5-5 | @constancetruggle 

[theericardo]

*Part 1: “Something Wicca This Way Comes... Again” *WRITTEN BY: PAUL (ME) *DIRECTED BY:  ALYSSA MILANO *SEASON 1, EPISODE 01

Staring

· Alyssa Milano as Phoebe Halliwell

· Rose McGowan as Paige Matthews Mitchell

· with Holly Marie Combs Ryan as Piper Halliwell

· and Shannen Doherty as Prue Halliwell

Co – Staring

· Brian Krause as Leo Wyatt

· Jacob Tremblay as Wyatt Halliwell

· Sunny Suljic as Chris Halliwell

· Nicolas Bechtel as Rafael Vázquez

Recurring

· Brooklynn Prince as Melinda Halliwell

· Alex Black as Tyler Michaels

· Dafne Keen as Coop Halliwell

· Ivan Sergei as Henry Michell

· Iain Armitage as Henry Michell, Jr.

· Dafne Keen as Hayley Michell

· Nicholas Hamilton as Jesse Housley

CHARMED THEME SONG MUSIC

[Scene: September 22nd, 2017 - 7:30 a.m. Starts with Piper getting the kids ready for school]

Piper: "Wyatt honey, did you wake up Chris and Melinda?”

Wyatt: “Why is it my job to do so?” “Chris doesn’t like me, and whatever Chris does and says, Melinda follows suit.”

(Leo rushes through before the portal for Magic School opens.)

Leo: “Wyatt, can do what your mom says, please?”

Wyatt: “Whatever, dude!”

(Wyatt orbs out the dining room.)

Piper: “I swear he gets that from you, Leo.”

Leo: “Oh really?”

Piper: “Yes!”

(The portal opens for magic school.)

Leo: “This is the first day of magic school being open since regaining it from evil,” “I don’t want to be late.”

(Leo and Piper give each other a distinctive stare.)

(Leo sprints towards the portal.)

Piper: “We are not done mister!”

(Chris and Melinda makes their way downstairs.)

Chris: “Mom, when do I get to move out of the room with Wyatt,” “He really pushing my buttons.”

Piper: “The last of the renovations should be finished whenever you get home.”

[Scene: 8:10 am – Phoebe at The Bay Mirror]

(Phone rings.)

Tyler: “Bay Manor, Tyler Michaels speaking.” “Looking for Phoebe Halliwell, please hold.”

(Tyler transfer the call to Phoebe.)

Phoebe: “Hello, Phoebe speaking.”

(Coop beams in.)

Phoebe: “Yes, I would like to meet you on Monday following my upcoming novel.”

Coop: whispers “Phoebe, you got a doctor appointment that day.”

Phoebe: “Oh shoot, Tyler, can you call them back to reschedule my interview for me please?”

Tyler: “Sure, Ms. Halliwell.”

Phoebe: “I still have to get ready for delivery next month, then plan the blessing…”

(Coop walks over to comfy Phoebe.)

Coop: “Just relax, Phoebe.”

Phoebe: “I will Coop, I will.”

[Scene: 8:56 am – Back at the Manor with Piper]

(The kids are at school and the renovators have arrived and have been working for 56 minutes)

Construction Worker #1: “Ms. Halliwell, we seem to come across a problem.” “We tried to knock down the shelves in the space you are converting into a bedroom…”

Piper: “Well, let me take a look at it.”

(Piper and the other construction worker walked over to the space were shelves.)

(The other construction worker is knocked out.)

Piper: “Omg, what the hell happened?”

Construction Worker: “Jonathan?”

(Piper and The Construction worker aids Jonathan.)

Construction Worker: “Sorry Ms. Halliwell, we can’t finish constru- “

(Piper freezes both construction workers.)

Piper: “If you can’t, I will.”

(Piper, tries to blow the shelves, but it did not work.)

Piper: “This wall is going come down one way or another.”

(With full force, Piper blow the shelves down, revealing a book.)

(She wipes the dust off the cover.)

Piper: “The Book of Damned?”

(Puzzled, Piper placed The Book of Damned in the room over and rushed back into the room with the construction workers.)

(Piper unfreezes the construction workers.)

Construction Worker: “-ction here…, wow, Ms. Halliwell, how did you do that?”

Piper: “Well you know, with a little elbow grease, and this sledgehammer.” “Maybe you guys should do some more lifting.”

Construction Worker: “Well we will finish the rest before the end of today Ms. Halliwell.”

Piper: “Ha-ha, Great!” “I will be around the house if you need me.”

[Scene: 9:33 am – At Paige and Henry’s apartment]

Henry: “Paige, I’m headed to work.” “I love you.”

Paige: “I love you too.”

Henry: “Thank you for breakfast.”

Paige: “You are welcome.”

(Paige climbs back into bed.)

Paige: “The twins are at school, Henry has gone it work, and I can get some more shut-eye.”

(Paige’s phone starts to ring.)

Paige: using telekinesis orbing “Silence!”

*” Paige” *

(Piper Calling Paige.)

*” Paige Matthews, get your butt here pronto!” *

Paige: “Fine!”

(Paige Orbs to the Manor.)

Paige: “Hey honey, how may I help you?”

(Piper and Paige examines The Book of Damned.)

(They flip through the book.)

Piper: “To remove someone from time and space?”

Paige: “To vanquished someone’s sprit?”

Piper and Paige: “To revert a being’s powers?”

(Piper hands the book to Paige.)

Piper: “Here you take it.” “Take it home with you”

(Paige looks at Piper puzzled.)

Paige: “Umm, no, thank you.”

Piper: “Wyatt has been kind of rebellious with his magic, so I do not need him getting any ideas.”

Paige: “Honey, yea-no, neither one of us knows what mojo comes along with that book, so peace out!”

(Paige orbs out)

Piper: “Uh, FINE!”

[Scene: 11:45 am – At the doctors with Phoebe and Coop]

Doctor: “Mr. and Ms. Halliwell, you are 38 weeks.” “You can pop any day now.”

Phoebe: “Any day!?” “I thought I had another month or at least a few more weeks.”

Coop: “Relax Phoebe, everything is prepared back at the condo.”

Phoebe: sighs “You are right.” “Thank you, Dr. Vera.” “Coop let’s go.”

Coop: Phoebe, are you ok?”

Phoebe: “Yes I’m fine, I just got to get to condo and summon Grams and let her know”

[Scene: 12:45 pm – Wyatt during lunch period at Frank Lanterman School]

(Wyatt is trying to look for somewhere to sit.)

(Being a freshman and transferring schools, he does not know anyone.)

(Jesse wraps his arms around Wyatt)

Jesse: “Aye yo Wyatt, come sit over here with us

(Jesse Housley, senior, is the caption of the Lacrosse team)

Wyatt: “Umm sure, I guess.”

(Jesse snatches Wyatt’s lunch tray and dumps it on him)

Jesse: “Ha, you really think I like you like that preppy, now get lost!”

(Wyatt storms off into the bathroom.)

Wyatt: “I hate it here!” “I’m sick of school!” “I’m sick of life!” “I’m sick of people!” “Ahh!!”

(The bathroom stalls start to rumble.)

Rafael: “Wyatt?” “Are you ok?”

Wyatt: “What do you want?”

Rafael: “I’m just checking up on you; that’s all.” “I have a change of clothes for you.”

(Rafael walks into the bathroom and hands Wyatt the set of clothes.)

Wyatt: “Thank you…?”

Rafael: “Rafael, Rafael Vázquez”

Wyatt: “Wyatt,” tucks hair behind his ear “Wyatt Halliwell.” “Thank you for the clothes, Rafael. “I got some business take care of.”

(Wyatt dashes out of the bathroom straight back to the lunchroom.)

(He approaches the table where Jesse and his teammates are sitting.)

Wyatt: “Hey, Jesse.”

Jesse: “Back again for more preppy?”

Wyatt: “No, but you are- “

(With his hands behind his back, Wyatt orbs a lunch tray into his hand and thumps it on Jesse’s head.)

Jesse: “Ahh! I’m going to get you for this preppy!”

(Jesse grabs the nearest lunch tray and throws it at Wyatt but misses, hitting another student.)

Female Student: “Bitch!”

(The student throws her try back at Jesse but misses him, hitting a different student.)

Another student: “FOOD FIGHT!”

(Food goes flying everywhere.)

(Wyatt crawls under a table, laughing.)

(As Wyatt continues crawling, he bumps into the Vice Principal.)

The Vice Principal: “Halliwell, what are you d- “

(A lump of mashed potatoes come flying, hitting the Vice Principal right in the face.)

The Vice Principal: spits out the mashed potatoes “oing on the floor?”

[Scene: 2:45 pm – The Manor with Piper]

(The Construction Workers are finished plastering and painting the walls and moving the furniture, giving Wyatt and Chris their own room.)

(Piper and Wyatt walks in from her picking him up from school.)

Piper: “Suspended for 2 days for starting a food fight?!” “Wyatt, what has gotten into you?

Wyatt: “Why are you concerned all of a sudden?”

Piper: “Did you use magic?”

Wyatt: “Yea, why?”

Piper: “Mister, I cannot deal with you now.” “Go up to your room, and I will be telling your father as soon as he comes back from magic school.”

Wyatt: “Whatever!”

(Wyatt orbs up to his room and slams the door.)

Piper: “If I put my hands on him... ooO!”

[Scene: 5:30 pm – Split screen between Phoebe and Paige’s places while they are on the phone with each other]

(Paige is standing over the stove and cooking dinner while Henry Jr and Hayley, Paige and Henry Sr.’s twins, are finishing up homework.)

(Phoebe is stretched out with Coop giving her a food massage.)

Phoebe: “The Book of Damned?” “Never heard of it.”

Paige: “Me either.” “I even asked them up there, and they never heard of it either.”

Henry Jr.: “Mom, what’s for dinner?”

Paige: “Honey, we are having Spaghetti with Garlic bread.”

Phoebe: “So where is the book now?”

Paige: “I left it with Piper.” “I got a bad mojo from it.”

Phoebe: “Maybe I can get a Premonition off of it.”

(Phoebe scenes Paige’s emotions over the phone)

Phoebe: “Oh honey, I can feel your worry about that book.” “Don’t let it get to you.”

Paige: “Stop it!”

Phoebe: “What?” “I can’t help that my powers are expanding.”

(They both share a laugh.)

[Scene: 6:30 pm – Back at the Manor with Piper, Leo, and the kids]

Piper: “Leo, I’m headed to P3.” “Can you please keep the kids out of the attic.” “There is a book that the construction workers and I found.” “I don’t need Wyatt to get a hold of it.” “Also, talk to your son before I backhand him, please.”

Leo: “Sure honey.”

Piper: “Love you.” kisses Leo

Leo: “Love you too.”

(Piper heads out the Manor door.)

[Scene: 7:00 pm – Still at the Manor Leo and the kids in the Conservatory]

(Leo is helping the kid with their homework while catching up with them about their day.)

Leo: “So Wyatt, how was school today?”

Wyatt: “Wel – “

Chris: “Well, I signed up to try out for the soccer team – “

Wyatt: “CHRIS, NOBODY IS TALKING TO YOU!” SO SHUT IT!”

Leo: “Hey Wyatt, that is not how you talk to your brother.”

(Wyatt looks at Leo and blinks, orbing him out the Manor to an ally near P3.)

(Chris pins Wyatt to the wall using Telekinesis)

Chris: “Where did you orb dad!?”

Wyatt: “I’m not telling you!”

Chris: “WHERE IS HE!”

Melinda: “Guys, st – “

Chris and Wyatt: “STAY OUT OF THIS MELINDA!”

(Melinda stayed quiet, worried about where is their dad).

[Scene: 7:37 pm – In the back ally of P3 with Leo was orbed]

(Leo rushes into P3, looking for Piper.)

Leo: “Excuse me.” “Pardon me” “Excuse me.” “Piper, Piper.”

Piper: “Leo, what are you doing here?”

Leo: “The kids started bickering then they stared using magic.”

Piper: “On hell no.” “Steve, watch the club.” “I got a family emergency.

(Piper and Leo rush to the car.)

(Mid-way back Piper calls Phoebe and Paige to meet them at the Manor.)

[Scene: Cuts back to the manor]

Wyatt: *Telekinetic Orbing * “LAMP!”

Chris: Telekinetic Orbing “SHADDER!”

(Wyatt pins to Chris to the wall.)

Chris: “Are you mad because I didn’t like sharing a room with you?” “Or because mom and dad favor me more?”

Wyatt: “Shut up!”

Chris: “Or that you are gay?”

Wyatt: “Shut up!” “Shut up!” Shut up!”

(Wyatt chokes Chris using Telekinesis.)

(Chris eyes roll to the back of his head, and then he collapses.)

Wyatt: “Shit, Shit, Shit!” ‘I think I killed him!”

(Panicking, Wyatt orbs Chris and Melinda to the attic.)

(He grabs the first book, which happens to be The Book of Damned)

(He flips through the book.)

Wyatt: “The resurrect thou dead, perfect.”

“From the angles in the sky,”

“To the demons from below,”

“Resurrect thou from thou dead.”

(The Manor rumbles and lights flashes.)

(As Piper and Leo walk into the attic while Paige orbs in with Phoebe.)

(Paige rushes over to Chris and checks his pulse.)

Paige: “He’s alive.”

(Paige heals Chris.)

Piper: “Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, what in the hell have you done this time?”

Wyatt: “I – I thought I had killed Chris.” “So, I used magic to bring him back alive.”

Chris: “I wasn’t dead dummy.”

(Piper walks over to aid Chris.)

Piper: “Honey, are you ok?”

Chris: “Yea, ask the curly-haired gay son over there.”

(Everyone zooms into Wyatt in shock.)

Piper: “So, this is how all of this started?”

Melinda: “Well, I figured out Wyatt was gay because I used my powers.” “After I found out, I shared it with Chris, which lead him to do some snooping and he found gay romance novels.”

Piper: “Thank you Melinda.” “Leo, I think it’s time for Melinda to go to bed.”

(Leo escorts Melinda to bath, then to bed.)

[Scene: 8:10 pm – In the living room of the Manor]

(Piper, Paige, Phoebe, and Leo are all to processing all that has happened.)

(The kids are all in their rooms.)

Piper: “I need a drink.”

Paige: “Oh honey just take deep breaths.”

(*Phoebe senses Piper’s emotions *)

Phoebe: “Piper I know you’re angry and confused about Wyatt.” “All I can say is be there for him.” “When I sensed his emotions a few weeks back, he waas hurt, afraid of what you would say.” “What both of his parents would say.”

Piper:

Leo: “Paige, you knew too?”

Paige: “Duhh, my gaydar went off long ago.”

Piper: “What are we going to do with Wyatt usi – “

(Creeps sounds from the stairs.)

(Piper, Paige, Phoebe, and Leo turns around to see Prue.)

Phoebe: “Ok, I know I’ve been seeing stuff, but do you all see what I see?”

Piper, Paige, and Phoebe: “Prue?”

Prue: “Yea, I’m Prue” “Who the hell are you?”

Piper: “We are your sisters.”

Prue: “Sisters?” “I don’t have any sisters.”

(Prue was standing there, covered in dust with the same outfit she died in.)

(Prue uses her Telekinesis to cause a Telekinetic Combustion, barely missing Phoebe, hitting the chandelier.)

Paige: “Home!” remote orbing on Phoebe

Piper: “What the hell wrong with you, Prue!?”

(Piper tries to freeze Prue.)

Prue: “Nice party trick.”

(With an evil smirk on her face, Prue astral teleports out the Manor.)

[Scene: 9:45 pm]

(Piper asks Wyatt and Chris to Orb Leo and Melinda to Magic school for safety.)

(Paige orbs herself and Piper to Phoebe’s Condo.)

Paige: “I told you that you that book was no good, Piper.”

Piper: “Yea, you did, don’t rub it in.”

Phoebe: “Did you bring the book?”

Piper: “Yes, why?”

Phoebe: “I’m trying to get a Premonition off of it.”

(Piper and Paige hold onto Phoebe’s shoulders.)

(*in the premonition * Prue in the underworld, sitting on a throne with the source and two other people.)

(flashes time setting changes to Salem Witch times - a fair skinned African woman, possibly a teenager, seen with The Book of Damned.)

(flashes time changes, still in Salem Witch times – Same women, slighter older appearance, is with Melinda Halliwell and The Book of Damned, once again.)

(flashes she turns around and faces the sisters, “GET OUT, NOW!”)

(premonition ends).

Piper: “Well we know where Prue is headed, but why?”

Paige: “Yea, but who the hell was that curly- haired woman?”

Phoebe: “And why was she with Melinda Warren?”

Paige: “Let’s meet the others at Magic School.”

(Paige orbs out with Piper and Phoebe.)

[Scene: Prue in the underworld]

(Prue astral teleports into the underworld.)

Demon: “Ma’am who the hell are you?

(Prue stares at the demon, causing him to explode and to be vanquished.)

Prue: “I’m the new owner of this hellhole.”

THE END

[the--blackdahlia]

It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 13

Title: It’s So Easy (And Other Lies) Chapter 13

Summary: Stevie Adler likes Duff McKagan. She has for a while now, but she is convinced Duff doesn’t like her that way. Duff likes Stevie, but so does their new bandmate Axl Rose.

Chapter Warnings: Mainly language

AN: Thank you for all the feedback!

Many Months Later

“Mom!” Duff called as he opened the door to his mother’s Seattle home. The house was buzzing with activity, as his seven siblings, their partners, and his nieces and nephews running around. Marie McKagan popped her head out of the kitchen. Her eyes lit up when she saw her youngest son.

“Hi there sweetie!” She made her way over to him, hugging him. She saw Stevie standing behind him and quickly went to hug her. “Hi Stevie! I was so excited when Duff told me you’d be joining us.”

“Thanks for having me Mrs. McKagan,” Stevie hugged her back. She loved coming over to Duff’s family’s gatherings.

“Now, how many times do I have to tell you that you should call me Marie. Mrs. McKagan makes me feel like an old Irish grandmother.” Marie shook her head. She thought after all these years, the girl would finally drop the pleasantries.

“Sorry Marie,” Stevie smiled. “Duff and I brought a bottle of wine, and I attempted to bake a pie yesterday but I still can’t find anything in the condo.” Stevie told her as Marie led her to the kitchen, where there was a pretty large gathering. Duff smiled as she walked away, then he saw his brothers gathered around the TV.

“So, you, Slash, and Stevie got a new apartment?” One of Duff’s brothers, Bruce, asked as Duff went to watch the football game that was on TV with them.

“Yeah, we found a pretty cool two bedroom. Lot bigger than what we were living in,” Duff told them.

“You’re making Stevie and Slash share a room?” Another brother, Matt, asked. “Damn, you’re heartless.”

“No, Stevie and I are sharing a room. You know, because we’re dating,” Duff told them. His brothers all got quiet before question after question were thrown his way.

“When did this happen?”

“How long have you two been dating?”

“I thought she was dating Tommy Lee?”

“What happened to she’s just a friend?”

“It’s about fucking time!”

“Guys, guys, relax,” Duff laughed. “She got stood up by Vince one night and it led us to realize that we liked each other. Because we’re both idiots apparently.” Duff shook his head a little bit.

“Wait, she was supposed to go out on a date with Vince Neil? Like that guy from Motley Crue?” His brother Jon asked. Duff nodded. “And she went for you instead?”

“Ha, ha. You’re so funny,” Duff rolled his eyes. He looked towards the kitchen and saw that Stevie was busy, so he leaned forward. “Guys, I gotta show you something.”

“Oh god, you didn’t get her name tattooed on you somewhere, did you?” Mark laughed. Duff shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a box and opened it to show his brothers the ring inside.

“I want to marry her,” He told them. “I bought this when she was decorating the apartment and I just, I’ve kept it.” He quickly put it away.

“Do you have any idea of when you want to do it?” Bruce asked.

“No, not really,” Duff told him. “I’m...I’m waiting for the time to be right. We haven’t been home very long and I just want it to be perfect.” He looked back over at her, watching as she laughed and made conversation with his mom and sisters. “She deserves it to be perfect.”

“Oh my god, he’s serious,” Matt pointed out.

“Yes I am,” Duff nodded. He stowed the ring box back in his jacket pocket and settled in to watch the game.

The day wore on and everyone sat down to eat. Duff held Stevie’s hand under the table periodically. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked while smiling, which was pretty much the whole day. Later, while people were breaking off to play cards, watch more football, and other things, Stevie volunteered to help with dishes duty so that Marie could rest. Duff made his way into the kitchen, where Stevie was working. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder.

“How are you?” He asked. Stevie smiled.

“It’s so nice here,” She told him. “I’m not used to having such a big family around.”

“What do you think of Seattle?”

“It’s lovely,” Stevie told him. “It’s a little rainier than LA, but it’s kind of a nice change.”

“Would you ever want to live here?” Duff asked.

“Honestly? I would love it,” She went back to washing her dishes. “Your sisters were telling me that a house you were obsessed with as a kid is up for sale.”

“That’s what Andy was telling me, but I didn’t believe him,” Duff chuckled. “Wanna go take a look at it tomorrow?”

“Sure, why not?” She laughed. Duff started placing kisses on her neck. “Duff, what are you doing?”

“I missed you,” He told her, running his hands down her sides. “Can’t wait to get you back to the hotel.”

“Duff McKagan, you are something else,” Stevie shook her head.

“You love it.”

“Yes, yes I do,” She flicked some water at him and laughed. “But I’m trying to do the dishes right now.”

“Meanie,” Duff fake pouted, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He leaned against the counter and watched her.

“You know it,” She laughed. “Let me finish these and maybe we can sneak out of here.”

“I like that idea,” Duff kissed her cheek. “Let me help, so we can speed up the process?” Stevie just laughed but let Duff take over the drying and putting away part while she washed and rinsed. Between the two of them, the process went pretty quickly and soon they were done and ready to head out.

“So soon?” Marie asked as they got their things. “But I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“We’re sticking around for a bit,” Duff told his mom. “And we’ll see you before we head back to LA.”

“You better,” Marie hugged Stevie then hugged Duff. “You and I need to have a chat later.”

“Am I in trouble?” Duff asked. Marie glanced over to see that Stevie had been grabbed by some of his siblings and they were talking her ear off.

“A little birdie told me you’re wanting to propose,” She whispered to her son. “And all I can say is, it’s about time.” She patted Duff’s cheek. “I’m so glad that you’re happy. And I’m so glad that it’s with her.”

“Thanks mom,” Duff kissed her cheek. “We’ll be by before we leave.”

“If you don’t, I have seven other children I can send to kick your ass for me,” Marie teased. She gave the couple a smile as Duff and Stevie waved goodbye and headed out, going back to their hotel for the night.

****

“Duff, babe, this neighborhood looks really fancy,” Stevie commented as her and Duff drove through the Laurelhurst neighborhood. “Like, this looks like the Hills or something.” The house was in the center of the neighborhood, nestled on a large plot of land that looked out over the city. It was so peaceful, unlike the neighborhoods her, Slash, and Duff had been living in over the years.

“Yeah, it’s kinda an expensive neighborhood,” Duff explained, a fond smile finding its way on his face. “Andy and I used to ride our bikes through here all the time when we were kids. People who live here used to get so annoyed with us, but every time we passed this house, we knew that one of us was going to live here someday.”

Duff pulled into the driveway, where the real estate agent was waiting on them.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” Stevie laughed.

“Well, I thought I’d be going by myself honestly, because I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go look at the house or if you’d even want to live in Seattle,” Duff admitted. “But I’m glad you’re here with me.” He kissed her hand before they got out of the car. Stevie looked towards the house and was completely in awe of the huge building.

They took a tour of the house and the grounds, and Duff watched as Stevie fell in love with the house with each room they went into. Duff could tell she was processing everything, and she was already decorating the place. He just wondered if she would really be happy living there and not in LA.

They headed back to the car after they took the tour, the real estate agent giving them all the contact information they needed if they decided they wanted to put an offer in on the house.

“Well?” Duff asked as they settled in the car and started to drive off.

“I loved it,” She told him. “But we have the place in LA we just bought. And the band is there...”

“Yeah, but we’re not always practicing and touring,” Duff pointed out. “And Slash can take over the condo when we’re not there. I mean, I’m sure he’d love the alone time.”

“You really want this house, don’t you?” Stevie asked, looking over at her boyfriend.

“Uh...well yeah, but only if…”

“Because I really want it,” Stevie cut him off. “There’s so much I could do with that! And there’s room for a home studio! And it gives us a chance to leave LA when we’re not busy.”

“I thought this was going to be a lot harder to convince you,” Duff laughed. “So, you want it?” He pulled up to a red right.

“Yes!” Stevie kissed him as the light turned green. Duff started driving again, heading back to their hotel.

“I’ll call the agent before we leave,” Duff told her. “Fuck, we’re buying a house sweetheart.”

“It’s exciting,” Stevie sighed happily. “Our own house.”

****

Duff and Stevie made an offer on the house before leaving Seattle. They told Marie about it and she squealed and immediately started calling all of Duff’s siblings, telling them to put good luck into the air for their youngest brother. After that, they headed back to LA to meet up with the band. They had a few shows to play on the strip, back to their roots with their loving fans.

Axl and Izzy had come over to Stevie, Slash, and Duff’s condo for dinner after practice one afternoon. They were having a very heated discussion about who would win in a fight between Wonder Woman and Superman while they waited for their food to be delivered. The phone rang then, pulling Duff from the heated discussion.

“Excuse me,” Duff got up and went to answer it. He was gone for a few minutes as Stevie and Izzy defended Wonder Woman to Axl and Slash. He came back with a smile on his face.

“Who was that?” Stevie asked, looking up at him from her seat.

“Uh, that was the realtor,” Duff told her. “They accepted our offer.”

“Wait...you’re kidding?” Stevie asked. Duff shook his head.

“The house is ours babe.”

Stevie jumped up and wrapped her arms around Duff, kissing him deeply. Duff kissed her back, holding her close to him. The band all watched, amused, until Axl realized something.

“Wait, that means you guys are leaving,” Axl told them. “Does that mean the band is breaking up?” Duff and Stevie looked over at Axl, Izzy, and Slash.

“Well, no,” Duff told him, sitting down and pulling Stevie into his lap. “We figured that when we’re taking a break from tours and the studio, we’ll be up in Seattle, but we still will keep the condo for when we need to be here. But Slash, it’s all yours when we’re not here man.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you two leaving your blonde hair everywhere,” Slash teased.

“And when we start getting settled, I thought we’d have you guys all up,” Duff gave a wink to Slash, who knew what the plan was. He had been with Duff when he picked the ring out.

“Well, this sounds like we need to celebrate,” Izzy commented. “Bring out the beers!”

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[morethanaprincess-a]

🎞- Favorite cartoon/anime? 🐻- Do you have any stuffed animals? 🐋- share a Weird/funny story?

Emoji meme

🎞- Favorite cartoon/anime?

Cowboy Bebop, as I’ve mentioned, is my favorite of all time! However, here are some others that have a special place in my heart: Revolutionary Girl Utena, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Rose of Versailles, Mobile Suit Gundam 0079 and Zeta, Lupin III (everything almost! Pink jacket is hard to watch, but I love The Woman Called Fujiko Mine as much as I love the 60s Green Jacket episodes), Baccano!, Higurashi no Naku Koro ni, Maison Ikkoku, One Piece, and pretty much anything by Ai Yazawa (Paradise Kiss, NANA) and Akiko Higashimura (Princess Jellyfish, Tokyo Tarareba Girls). 

🐻- Do you have any stuffed animals?

I had a lot more at one point, but most of what I’ve got now can be separated into two categories: cats and fandom things. I have a lot of cat plushes that I collect (read: buy at anime conventions) and cuddle with when I’m feeling down. Otherwise, I have a lot of fandom stuff, including but not limited to: Monokuma, several Tony Tony Choppers, green Haro from Gundam 0079, Reiji Sakamaki (I need Ruki Mukami to join him!), Stitch from Lilo and Stitch, Marie from The Aristocats (which is both fandom and cat, a double winner!), Gelatoni from Tokyo Disneyland (Also both fandom and a cat), Ein from Cowboy Bebop, and two small Code: Realize plushes of Abraham van Helsing and Victor Frankenstein. There are probably more that I’m forgetting. I feel like Baby Spice in Spiceworld when she lists everyone in her bed and assures the hot dancer guy there’s no room for him!

Let’s all be happy for my wallet that no official Danganronpa 2 plushes were made beyond Monokuma and Monomi, I think. 

🐋- share a Weird/funny story?

Years ago, I was visiting my grandmother at her apartment in New York City and had just done some shopping in Chinatown and Kinokuniya (food and anime merchandise, of course), and I was sharing the elevator with a familiar-looking man with bright red hair. I stared for a moment, couldn’t say anything, and then brought it up to her once I’d gotten through her door. Our exchange went something like this:

Rae: “Grandma, there was a man who looked really familiar, very red hair, in the elevator just now!”

Rae’s Grandma: “Oh yes, he’s this dreadful talk show host. Has some sort of late night show.”

Rae: *pauses, eyes widen* “Grandma…are you saying you share a building of condos with CONAN O’BRIEN!?”

Rae’s Grandma: *offhand, dismissive sigh of exasperation* “Oh yes, that’s him. The original creators of that heinous American accessories line also live here. You know the one, not Hermes but still has a horse and carriage for some reason…”

Rae: *another long pause and a deep breath* “Grandma, you’re telling me you share a building with Conan O’Brien and the owners and creators of COACH!?”

This is why I write Rich People Problems. I have too many personal life experiences I can draw from. My family keeps telling me I need to write a novel about one particular incident, too.

Another fun fact: When her apartment was still being built, her condo was the last to have the original wood tiles laid. The man who did it? Kidnapped the Lindbergh baby a few days later.

My family and personal life is wild sometimes.